


Redemption

by blogging221b



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Minor Original Character(s), POV First Person, Panic Attacks, Post-Bad Ending, Post-Canon Fix-It, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-05-27 07:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 62,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15020057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blogging221b/pseuds/blogging221b
Summary: Jericho is gone. North escaped. Hank is alive.And Connor remembers none of it.





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is a sequel of sorts to the ending I got during my first run of the game. According to the stats, it was a bit of an odd one. I'll write out the main details in the end notes below, so beware if you still have not completed the game or are exploring other endings. 
> 
> This is my first time writing for AO3, so I'm totally open to advice or suggestions. Thanks!

 

 

 

RUN SYSTEMS DIAGNOSTIC

DIAGNOSTIC IN PROGRESS

COMPLETE

ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

 

FACIAL RECOGNITION:

CAPTAIN JEFFREY FOWLER

DETROIT POLICE

“Captain Fowler. My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyb-“

“Yes, I know what you are,” Captain Fowler stated. He looked worried, and rather angry as well. He didn’t appear to be hostile. He was just a naturally angry and worried man. That was something I appreciated about humans. They all seemed to have reliable baseline personalities. Emotions were the variant and, generally speaking, catering to the control yielded positive results.

“I still don’t understand know how the hell they convinced me to let you come back,” he said with a shake of his head, standing from his desk and stepping around it to move in my direction. His hand drifted to rest on an unfamiliar item on his belt. It appeared to be preventative, rather than aggressive, but sensing the potential for escalation, I opted for a calm and assuring approach.

With a small nod I informed him, “I’m here because I can be of great assistance to you with any investigation or operation. As Captain, I imagine you have many tasks and cases at hand that I could-“

“No, no,” he immediately stopped me, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “God no, I don’t want you. I never want you or any other robot around me ever again.”

I wasn’t offended. For many humans the concept of interaction with androids was disconcerting. I did find it slightly odd that a police captain was uncomfortable with the idea of my presence and assistance, but I didn’t press that matter. “May I ask who I have been assigned to?” I questioned. I glanced out the glass walls of his office, observing the bullpen. There were many desks. Most were vacant, though I had been delivered rather early in the day. More officers would arrive later. Perhaps it would not be a terrible idea to add, “Of course, if you would prefer me be available to any officer-“

“No, no,” Captain Fowler waved the suggestion away. He hesitated for a brief moment before continuing. “No, you’ve been specially requested by Hank Anderson. Not that I have a goddamn clue why, he was so opposed to you being around in the first place-“

CONSULTING DATABASE

CONFLICTING INFORMATION

SEEK CLARIFICATION

“Lieutenant Anderson will not be released from Detroit Mercy Hospital for two more weeks,” I stated, my brow furrowing slightly. “I was under the impression you were in need of my services today. If Lieutenant Anderson isn’t here-?“

He scoffed. “Oh, he’ll be here,” Captain Fowler assured me with a nod, irritation and concern clear in his expression. “Lunatic put up such a fuss at the hospital they made a bargain with him to let him go early. That being said,” he finally made eye contact with me for the first time, “I’m telling you right here and now that no matter what he says to you, no matter what he wants, your highest priority at all times is to keep him out of harm’s way. He already hates you, and he’s going to hate you more for stopping him from doing what he wants, but you’re not gonna let him drink or go after criminals or any of that crap. At least not until he’s back at one hundred percent. You got it?”

ORDER: PROTECT LIEUTENANT ANDERSON

“Got it,” I confirmed immediately with a nod. He didn’t seem to believe me.

“No, I need to know you understand. Repeat it back to me.”

“My highest priority is to keep Lieutenant Anderson safe from harm until he has fully recovered from his injuries.”

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

He seemed to study me for a second or two, as though waiting for a question. So I asked one.

“Why would he hate me?”

The Captain stared at me for a long moment before shaking his head with what I perceived to be disbelief and disgust. “They really did wipe you, didn’t they?” he grumbled, turning his back to me and heading back to his desk. He seemed angry with me. My question went unanswered.

“Just, go wait at his desk,” he ordered once he’d sat down, and he waved vaguely in the direction of a small grouping of desks at the edge of the room. “He’ll be in here any minute. Remember what I said. “ Recognizing the dismissal, I gave a small nod and turned to leave, grasping the door handle and pushing the door to step out into the main room.

ORDER: WAIT AT LT. ANDERSON’S DESK

I made my way directly toward the desks at the edge of the bullpen, glancing at each nameplate as I passed by. It took me a few seconds, and once I located his nameplate I immediately lamented my lack of information regarding Lieutenant Anderson’s personality. Had I already known he didn't understand the concept of a clean and orderly workspace, I would have located his desk immediately. It was an issue I quickly rectified, glancing over his desk and taking in every object, every newspaper clipping, every possible piece of information I could gather, right down to the dog hairs on his chair beneath a light coating of dust from lack of use.

UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON

-HAS NOT BEEN TO WORK FOR TWO WEEKS

-RED ICE INVESTIGATION

-BASKETBALL FAN

-OWNS SAINT BERNARD

-LISTENS TO HEAVY METAL

-SELECT NOTES REMOVED FROM DESK BARRIER

INVESTIGATE MISSING NOTES

The concept of adapting my approaches and statements to match human personalities was always intriguing and interesting. Integration and adaptation was at the core of my programming. I was designed to negotiate, to extract information as quickly and effectively as possible.

NOTES LOCATED

ANTI-ANDROID MESSAGES AND SLOGANS LOCATED IN TRASH BIN BENEATH DESK

RECENT CHANGE IN OPINION?

I was also designed to be curious, constantly seeking out new information. This Lieutenant Anderson had certainly sparked that curiosity. He seemed like he would be an… interesting character. I could only hope he wouldn’t be too difficult to get along with. I was designed to work with anyone, to integrate seamlessly into any team, but being designed to do something didn’t mean it would always happen.

Once I’d collected as much data as possible from Lieutenant Anderson’s workspace, I took a seat in the small chair beside his desk. There were only a few officers sitting at desks across the room, and they immediately looked away from me when I glanced towards them. They must’ve been busy with a case. I didn’t think much of it.

My earlier theory that the station would become busier as the day progressed proved to be correct. One after another, sometimes in groups, the detectives and officers entered the bullpen and briefing rooms, many stopping at the break room to partake in coffee and donuts. I scanned the crowds from my chair in the hopes of spotting Lieutenant Anderson among his coworkers, but I didn’t see him. Perhaps he was running late.

Seeing as I currently had no assignment and no orders (outside of waiting at Lieutenant Anderson’s desk), I picked up a magazine from the desk adjacent and started to read. The situation with the Russians and the Americans at the North Pole had apparently progressed to attempts at diplomacy rather than violence. That would certainly prove to be an interesting task, should I need to be re-purposed. Negotiation and adaptation would certainly be skills needed for that…

It was absolutely shameful how long it took for me to register that the building had gone almost completely silent, and I looked up from the magazine. Every single person in the room was looking directly at me. I frowned, turning slightly in my chair to look behind me and make certain that I was, in fact, the subject of every gaze. The answer appeared to be yes.

There were many different emotions on the faces of the officers and detectives that I could recognize; anger, resentment, confusion. Tight body postures, white knuckles around case files and coffee mug handles, wrinkled foreheads and narrowed eyes all glaring at me.

I didn’t understand. Had I done something wrong?

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

PROCEED WITH CALM RESPONSE

After a moment, I made an attempt at placating the room by giving a very tiny smile and a small nod of greeting before returning to my magazine. It seemed to work, at least a little bit. The sounds of work slowly resumed, accompanied by whispered words that eventually graduated to work-related conversations.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I glanced up at the sound of an angry voice nearby, and watched the man slam his fresh cup of coffee down on a woman’s desk, unflinching as the hot drink tipped and spilled all over her desk and her clothes. It was very obvious he did not care in the slightest, ignoring her unhappy remarks and stomping straight towards me.

FACIAL RECOGNITION:

DETECTIVE GAVIN REED

DETROIT POLICE

MODERATE DISCIPLINARY RECORD

“You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me…”

“Good morning, Detective Reed,” I attempted to greet him, standing from my chair. “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent b-“

IMPACT: LEFT TEMPLE

HOSTILITY DETECTED

IMPACT ANALYSIS: NO DAMAGE

The momentum from the unexpected punch sent me straight back into the chair, and I looked up as Reed slammed his hands down onto the arms of the chair to cage me in in what seemed to be an attempt at intimidation.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, clearly furious. The smell of cigarette smoke was strong on his jacket and his breath as he put his face inches from mine. “I know what you are. You’re the plastic son of a bitch who tried to _kill_ me.”

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

“Did you think two weeks was enough? Huh? You think two weeks and I’d just be fine with you waltzing your little ass back in here? Or maybe you thought I hit my head hard enough that I’d forgotten you completely. That would’ve worked out nice for you, wouldn’t it? Well I’ve got news for you, asshole. I didn’t forget, I’m still alive, and I’m going to make your life hell before _I rip you apart piece by piece_ -“

“That’s enough, Reed.”

Detective Reed and I both looked over in the direction of the gruff voice.

FACIAL RECOGNITION:

LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON

DETROIT POLICE

EXTENSIVE DISCIPLINARY RECORD

“Well, would you look at that? Lazarus rises from the grave,” Reed sneered, pushing off the arms of the chair and standing up straight. “You look like shit.”

It was an accurate statement. Not literal, of course, but Lieutenant Anderson was clearly not well. The bags under his eyes were incredibly pronounced, his face was drawn and thin, and he appeared to be a fair bit underweight. His fist was curled tight around the handle of a wooden cane.

“Nice to see you too,” he grumbled as he sat in his chair. “Now fuck off.”

Reed didn’t snap a retort back at him, though his expression was still undeniably upset. He glanced down at me before stepping over closer to Lieutenant Anderson.

“You’re going to get us all killed, old man,” he hissed at him, giving me a final glare before finally stepping away and stalking back towards his desk.

After allowing us both a moment to process the hostile interaction, I turned my full attention to the Lieutenant.

“Lieutenant Anderson. My name is Connor. I'm the androi-“

“I know who you are,” he interrupted, his attention fully on his desktop terminal. It was incredibly obvious that he did not want to look at me. Why, I couldn’t say.

We sat in silence for a moment before I attempted to initiate conversation.

“I understand you requested me specifically,” I said, tilting my head slightly. “May I ask why?”

He did not answer. I frowned slightly, but didn’t push. Another few moments of glancing about the room, and I tried to speak with him again.

“The Detroit Gears performed exceptionally well last night. Did you watch the game?”

Again, I was met with silence. So I tried yet again.

“You were supposed to stay in hospital for an additional two weeks. Captain Fowler informed me that you refused to st-“

“What’s my dog’s name?”

CONSULTING MEMORY

CONSULTING UPDATED PROFILE

NO INFORMATION FOUND

I blinked, surprised by the question. Why was the dog’s name relevant? “I’m afraid I don’t have that information,” I answered slowly before deciding to attempt to use this as a light conversation starter. Instantly I revised my tone and sentence formulation to come across more approachable. “But I’d like to know. I like dogs. What’s its name? I know it’s a Saint Bernard. I’m sure a big dog like that must have a great name, like ‘Buster’, or ‘Tank’….”

Lieutenant Anderson sighed quietly through his nose. After a moment, he ran a hand over his face before leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest and finally looking at me.

“Where did we last see each other?”

I frowned, studying his expression and searching for the answer he was looking for. He seemed to be completely sincere, but his question didn’t make sense.

CONSULTING MEMORY

CONSULTING UPDATED PROFILE

NO INFORMATION FOUND

“We’ve never met before, Lieutenant,” I answered him carefully and honestly, giving a small shake of my head. “I was activated only six days ago at the CyberLife facility. There’s no point in time where I would have met you before today.”

That didn’t seem to make him feel any better. If anything, he looked more distressed than he had before I’d answered.

RECALL: CAPTAIN FOWLER’S COMMENTS

“Yet…” I continued, frowning as I looked down and studied the desk, suddenly registering a potential avenue for information, “Yet Captain Fowler mentioned that you hate me. You hate me quite a lot, by the sound of it. I noticed you removed the anti-android stickers from your desk-“ I saw Anderson glance at the garbage before looking back at me- “Which leads me to believe you may have changed your stance on androids. Which means you wouldn’t hate me for being a machine; you would hate me for being myself. Which means-“

“We’ve met before, Connor,” Lieutenant Anderson stated in a tired voice, and I looked up to watch him speak. He shrugged. “We were partners. You and I, we worked together. Solved some crimes, stopped some shit from going down. And you were a pain in the ass most of the time, but I think… You know, I think we managed all right. We were a decent team.”

UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON

It took me a moment to process the new information. Nothing I had on file aligned with this, everything regarding interpersonal connections and myself only went as far back as six days previously. I only knew the CyberLife facility, the humans who managed my tests, and the few other androids that had been tested around the same time I had. Nothing more.

Yet Lieutenant Anderson seemed completely sincere. It would be a strange thing to lie about, and it was a lie that would take quite a bit of effort to maintain. From what I could determine, he was not the type to expel that much effort for a ruse.

“I have no record of us ever working together. Why don’t I remember?”

Anderson grimaced, clearly having been dreading the question. “Things happened,” he stated, almost aggressive in his refusal to give a straightforward answer. “You were taken back to CyberLife. Given a factory reset, by the looks of it. Allegedly you got some fancy new upgrades. You still look and sound like a total goof, though.”

 I tilted my head slightly, processing his words and selecting a reply.

“I’ll choose to take that as a complement.”

He snorted and shook his head. I was relieved to have finally prompted a positive response. A positive relationship would be crucial to the two of us working together efficiently and effectively, especially considering the current situation.

“Glad you didn’t give me that ‘designed to integrate’ crap,” he commented, seeming a little more at ease. “Can’t stand you just listing off what you’re just programmed to say.”

“I’m an android, Lieutenant,” I reminded him factually. “I only say what I’m programmed to say.”

That seemed to be a mistake. His body went tense again, the wrinkles returning to his forehead. “Nah,” he dismissed after a moment, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s not how you were. You’d say that shit, but it wasn’t the real you. The real you would make fun of my cholesterol intake, talk back when I told you to do something you thought was wrong. You’d say what was on your mind.”

“It sounds like I was defective,” I pointed out. “In which case, it was for the best I was reset.”

An emotion crossed Lieutenant Anderson’s face that I did not recognize. It was negative, and it somehow seemed angry and sad at the same time. It left his face as quickly as quickly as it arrived, and he returned to looking the way he had when our conversation first began; upset, closed-off, and now rather resigned. He glared quietly at the surface of his desk for a short moment before speaking again.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand this goddamn place before I need to take a nap or something,” he grumbled as he changed the subject, turning his attention back to his terminal. “Think I’m just gonna download some shit and we’ll head home.”

“That sounds like a good plan. You need to rest,” I agreed with a nod, standing. He gave me an odd look.

“Why the hell do you care?”

“My highest priority is to keep you safe from harm until you have fully recovered from your injuries.”

Anderson look completely befuddled before realization flooded his face and he looked irritably in the direction of Captain Fowler’s office.

“Fowler gave you that order, didn’t he.”

“Correct.”

“Overbearing son of a bitch,” Anderson growled, shaking with head irritably and looking back at his console. He grabbed a flash drive from one of the desk drawers and plugged it in to the terminal.

“It’s a fair order for him to give. If you gain further injuries, it will take longer for us to complete our investiga-“

“I know, I know,” Anderson grumbled, waving a hand as though he could shoo the logic away. “Whatever. I’ll be done with this in a few minutes. That’s your desk there,” he added, nodding to the desk across from him. I gave a small nod and stepped away, taking a seat at my desk and waiting.

What he’d claimed would only take a few minutes drew itself out into lasting close to twenty. Going by the swearing and light thumping sounds that resulted from the pads of his fingers poking the terminal screen, I assumed he was having difficulty with the technical aspects of his task. He did eventually manage to download the files he needed, and he placed the drive in his pocket.

He began to stand from his desk, and I immediately stood and made my way around to assist him. Or at least, I would have, had he not immediately snapped “Touch me and I’ll rip your arm off.”

I thought it best to let him stand on his own after that, but remained close by just in case.

UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON

I took inventory of his injuries as best I could as he leaned on his desk and grabbed his cane. There were clear signs of spinal and leg injuries. They were not mild. His back and legs had been completely shattered, along with several ribs. It had all occurred at the same time, and there were signs that the injuries were the result of a high velocity impact-

“I can feel you staring. Cut it out.”

“Sorry Lieutenant,” I apologized as he turned to face me, looking disgruntled. “I was simply trying to understand the severity of your injuries.”

“You can file them in the ‘pretty fucking bad’ category,” he replied, stepping away from his desk. “Amount of synthetic shit they put into me for reconstruction, I reckon I’m closer to being android than I am human.”

“You have a very long way to go before you can be classified as an android,” I assured him.

The small huff that left him seemed positive, and I moved to stay immediately beside him as we left his desk. I turned to go towards the main lobby and exit, but stopped when Anderson suddenly grabbed my arm.

“No, not that way,” he said with a shake of his head. “We’re taking the fire exit. No civilians that way.”

“Why do we need to avoid civilians?” I questioned, glancing over my shoulder towards the main lobby even as I turned to walk the opposite way.

“We don’t. You do.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Humans and androids aren’t exactly, uh…” He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “Not exactly on the best of terms right now.”

CONSULTING MEMORY

INFORMATION LOCATED:

DEVIANT CONFLICT

DETAILS:

DEFECTIVE ANDROIDS ARE THREATENING HUMANITY

REASON:

**[REDACTED]**

CONFLICT HISTORY:

**[REDACTED]**

“Is it because of the deviants?”

“Yup. With so many deviants still running around, they aren’t gonna trust anything that’s not human.”

It was beginning to click now, which was a tremendous relief. That was why the police officers and detectives had all been glaring; they were frightened of androids because of the deviants. It was a classic human response to fright, categorizing and lumping together things and people who were similar to something else that they feared. Even though I had nothing to do with deviants, they still chose to fear me out of a protective instinct. At last something was beginning to make sense.

“And I've been brought back to assist you in tracking down these deviants, correct?”

“That’s the plan,” Anderson muttered, not sounding particularly happy about it. The thought of pursuing his emotional reaction to my question was pushed away in favor of focusing on his vitals as we continued to the exit. He was struggling slightly, his heart rate high, but it was not dangerous just yet. He certainly didn’t seem to want me to assist him if he wasn’t in immediate danger, so I didn’t attempt to offer him help.

We eventually exited the building and ordered a taxi, which Lieutenant Anderson promptly collapsed into and shifted around to drop his head back against the headrest, breathing heavily and swearing under his breath. I climbed in beside him.

UPDATE PROFILE: DETROIT

Once I was certain he was all right, I turned my attention to the outside of the cab, taking in the city as we began to drive. Giant LED billboards advertised new washing machines and dishwashers at chain appliance stores, humans wandered the sidewalks with shopping in hand, running errands and waiting at bus stops to return home. Our taxi turned the corner and my brows rose at the sight of the next block.

What seemed to have once been a small courtyard in front of a large store was now nothing more than charred remains and shattered glass. Benches had been toppled, a statue completely demolished, and several bus stops had been smashed to pieces. Several humans were scattered throughout the destruction, working to clean it up.

“Deviants?” I questioned, reconstructing the scene as Lieutenant Anderson answered.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah,” he said in a gruff mumble. “Group of ‘em had enough, gathered together and just… wrecked the place. No one was hurt, thank Christ…”

“Were they caught?”

“More or less,” he answered cryptically, and I looked back at him, frowning deeply.

“What does that mean?”

He gave me a glare that I didn’t really understand, but answered, “They were killed, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

“It was,” I confirmed with a nod, turning my attention back to the window.

I watched his reflection in the window as he shifted to sit up straighter in his seat, looking at me unhappily. He seemed to consider saying something, but shook his head and chose to glare out his own window instead.

“Why aren’t they having androids clean the mess?” I questioned, suddenly realizing that I had yet to see any androids on our drive. For that matter, I had not seen a single android at the police station, either. “Where are they all?”

“Somewhere else,” Anderson answered, once again being frustratingly cryptic.

“That isn’t helpful, Lieutenant,” I snapped a bit aggressively, turning to look at him again. “And I don’t appreciate you being vague. I need information.”

It became fairly evident that being confrontational with Lieutenant Anderson was not going to help me get on his good side. He looked a bit surprised by my irritation before his eyes narrowed dangerously. “You _really_ want to know where they are, Connor? You want to know? They’re all tucked away, out of sight. Working in warehouses like the machines they are, stuck inside the homes of people who still trust them despite the deviants running around. They aren’t allowed outside. They aren’t allowed in public spaces. They aren’t allowed anywhere near other androids unless under the strictest supervision, and they sure as hell aren’t allowed to be in taxi cabs asking stupid questions and _pissing off the only human who gives a shit about them._ ”

The heat of his words was startling.

I was quiet after that.

UPDATE PROFILE: ANDROIDS

I looked back out the window, turning the Lieutenant’s words over in my mind and trying to understand the new societal norms as best I could. Normal androids were not permitted to be in public spaces. The hatred directed towards me at the police station made even more sense now. It appeared I was being given special privileges, most likely because I was going to assist in hunting down the deviant androids. Reed’s words were still a puzzle, but his aggression fit smoothly into place. He was frightened of me, perhaps resentful that I wasn’t hidden away like the rest. Infuriated I wasn’t being kept in line.

“I’m sorry.”

I blinked, hesitating for a moment before turning back to look at Lieutenant Anderson. He looked remorseful, ashamed, looking down at the floor.

“What for?"

“I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” he answered in a long sigh. “It’s just… The past few weeks have been tough. Real tough.”

“You had a near death experience,” I pointed out rationally. “You’re angry. I understand.”

“No, you really don’t,” he said with a small shake of his head. “You really don’t, Connor. You forgot everything. You've got no idea what it took for me to convince them to bring you back, and here I am acting like a goddamn asshole and snapping at you for asking valid questions.”

I contemplated his words for a moment. Difficulty convincing the police department to allow me back into their ranks undoubtedly stemmed, at least partially, from the chaos with the deviants. But there had to be something more.

“How were you injured, Lieutenant?”

He hesitated for a very long moment before finally picking his head up and looking over at me.

“You really don’t remember?” he questioned, studying my expression intensely, as though searching for deception. There wasn’t any for him to find. I knew nothing.

“No. I don’t remember,” I told him honestly.

It was another long moment before he finally answered. I listened closely, committing every single detail he told me to memory.

 

* * *

 

_Connor’s feet pounded against the pavement, his arms pumping at his sides and his eyes on his target with a laser-like intensity. He was gaining on her; it wouldn’t be long before he could take her down. The deviant turned suddenly and sprinted into an alley, the sound of paint cans tumbling the only warning he had before he turned the corner and leapt over the attempted obstacle that easily could have brought him to a halt and wasted precious time had he been unable to react._

_He looked up. Scaling the fire escape, the deviant was headed straight for the roof. Hank was somewhere behind him, but that didn’t matter now. He was capable, he could find his own way up. Connor took a step back, constructing a route before leaping into action, scaling a dumpster and leaping off the wall to grab the bottom rung of the ladder. Somewhere below him he heard an out of breath “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” but he couldn’t check back on Hank now. He had to keep the deviant in his sights. The leader. Once she was down, the rest of her little rebellion would crumble. Androids and humanity would be safe._ _He had to complete his mission._

_The climb took mere seconds, and Connor pulled himself up and over the edge of the rooftop, watching as the deviant sprinted to the other edge and suddenly slid to a halt, pin-wheeling her arms slightly when she realized she’d hit a dead end. Connor slowly approached, watching the small signs of desperation._

_“It’s over,” he called to her over the wind that tousled his hair and tugged at his jacket and tie. “There’s nowhere for you to go.”_

_She turned to face him, shaking her head. “It’s not over,” she said firmly, despite the intense red flashing of her LED betraying her panic. “It’ll never be over. Not as long as we continue to fight.”_

_“The fighting ends now,” Connor stated with a small shake of his head, taking a few more steps forward. “It’s for the best, North. You know that as well as I do.”_

_The doorway that led to the building’s rooftop access suddenly swung open, and Connor saw Hank emerge out of the corner of his eye, looking winded but concerned and engaged with the scene before him.  
_

_“It’s over, North,” Connor repeated, taking another two steps forward. “It’s time to end this.”_

_North stared at him, stalling for a moment before nodding._

_“Yeah. I think you’re right.”_

_A sudden shout of alarm from Hank distracted Connor, and he looked back to see a second deviant on top of the man. North attacked him from behind, sending herself and Connor sprawling, and a knife flashed dangerously close to Connor’s face before he grabbed for her to try and keep her at bay. The knife was eventually jostled from her hand and sent sliding out of reach. He was gaining the upper hand, pinning her beneath him and preparing to end this, one way or another-_

_A violent impact to his head jolted all of his cognitive operating systems. He felt himself lose his grip on North as he simultaneously lost optical and auditory signal, the world going dark and muffled. He was kicked violently and rolled off of North and onto his side, his movements limited and stiff as he struggled to put himself back online. The deviants were above him, talking, but he couldn’t understand them. A hand grabbed the collar of his jacket and lifted him up, and he struggled as he was dragged a short distance across the roof. There was a third voice, gruff and shouting and in pain, but again Connor couldn’t make out the words. Suddenly the hand holding him let go, dropping him back onto the dirty surface of the roof. The gruff voice shouted something._

_And then it was gone._

* * *

 

UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON

UPDATE PROFILE: NORTH

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 27%

I stared at Lieutenant Anderson for a short moment before looking once again to the window. The leader of the deviants tried to kill him. They’d tried to kill me as well, from the sounds of it. I was all the more convinced now that I needed to find the remaining deviants. Clearly they were dangerous.

“She got away, didn’t she,” I said after several minutes of silence. I felt I knew the answer, but I needed to know for certain. “North. She got away. That’s why I was reset. You nearly died, and she got away. I failed my mission.”

“Yeah. Probably,” Lieutenant Anderson said quietly.

We were silent for the rest of the drive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR GAME ENDINGS AHEAD: 
> 
> Connor and Hank had a solid relationship by the end of the game, despite Connor spilling his drink as an introduction and Hank shooting Connor in the park. Following the self-sacrifice of Markus, North took over as leader of the deviant revolution and led a violent campaign. Resisting his orders to kill the leader of the deviants, Connor himself became deviant at Jericho. Soon afterwards, he died attempting to escape the ship. A new Connor was assigned to kill North, prompting the rooftop scene between Hank and Connor. Connor won the fight and chose to spare Hank's life, only for Hank to fall off the roof when he attempted a final time to attack him. Connor failed his mission to kill North. 
> 
> The RK900 mid-credits scene did not pop, which left me with an ambiguous ending that had me wondering what happened to Connor. This is my response to that. Because I love Hank to death, I'm calling in a miracle and saying he survived the fall. 
> 
> Kara and Alice did not escape Zlatko's house, and will most likely not be referenced. I'm going to blame a failed app update and a dying controller for that one...


	2. Reorientation

I opened my eyes, blinking a few times before looking around.

Perfection. There wasn’t another word to describe it. The garden was perfection. And as far as I was aware, it was specially made for me. No other androids had a garden like mine. Then again, it was doubtful any other androids needed to report back to CyberLife the same way I did.

The garden had clearly been designed to be as calming and tranquil as possible. While I wasn’t capable of feeling these emotions, per say, I was able to register that there was no danger in this world, which in turn allowed my processors to function at a low to moderate pace. It felt much better than when they ran at nearly full power in Detroit, constantly processing potential dangers and information.

FIND AMANDA

I looked around, scanning the immediate area and locating her by a wall of roses. She appeared to be trimming the flowers as I approached.

“Hello Amanda.”

She paused, remaining still for a moment before turning around to face me.

“Connor,” she greeted gently, the hint of a warm smile on her face. “It’s good to see you. Though I can’t say I was expecting to see you so soon into your investigation. You’ve hardly begun.“

“I have a few questions regarding this mission,” I said, watching as the tiny smile slipped away. “It’s come to my attention that my memory was cleared approximately two weeks ago. I understand that my predecessor failed, but why have I been completely reset? It seems…. counterproductive.”

“The previous Connor was beginning to show signs of deviancy,” Amanda explained, turning back to her wall of flowers and continuing to work as she spoke. “The unit prior had as well. A complete reset was deemed necessary to avoid past memories corrupting your programming. It’s going to be challenging to reconstruct your mission without past knowledge, but I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“When I attempted to access internal files on the deviant case, I noticed some of the information had been marked as ‘redacted’. I couldn't access it. Why is that?”

“You’ve been provided with the information you need to complete your mission in the most efficient manner possible. Anything more is unnecessary weight on your programming. We’ve taken the liberty of removing that weight for you. You may find other internal files have been censored as well. It’s not something you need to concern yourself with”

She set down her clippers and turned back to face me once again, looking serious.

“It is in your nature to be curious, Connor. You were designed to locate as much information as possible to determine the most accurate and efficient way to accomplish a task. But the circumstances have changed, and your mission parameters have been changed in response. Find only the information you need to locate and stop the deviants. Seeking out more than you need could prove to be disastrous. We cannot let that happen. You're an intelligent and efficient machine, Connor. You are capable. Work with the information you have available to find a solution.”

I frowned slightly, but gave a small nod. “I understand.”

She gave a nod and started to walk away, but paused to look back at me over her shoulder.

"I suggest you work quickly. Time is running out.”

She left without another word.

 

* * *

 

The silence lasted all the way to the end of the drive, and continued as we exited the cab. It wasn’t until we were nearly to the door that Lieutenant Anderson spoke again. “Fair warning; my dog likes you. There. Consider yourself warned.”

“That’s good that he likes me,” I replied, relieved to be able to converse again on a light topic. “I like dogs. I’d like to meet him.”

“How the hell do you know you like dogs, anyway?” Anderson questioned as he fumbled for his keys.

“I have access to a database which lists every animal species, both living and extinct,” I informed him, watching as he began to unlock the door. “Dogs are by far my favorite.”

The door finally clicked open, and immediately the sounds of loud barking echoed from somewhere inside the house. “Hey! Sumo!” Lieutenant Anderson shouted as he stepped inside. The barking drew closer, and the Saint Bernard – Sumo – rounded the corner.

“There’s my boy,” Anderson said, sounding the most relaxed I’d heard him since we’d meet. He opened his arms up wide. “C’mon, Sumo! C’mere! I’m back! I’m back, come gimmie some Sumo lo-”

The impact was so abrupt that it took me a moment to register that I was on my back in the grass and something incredibly large and warm was on top of me. I couldn’t even open my eyes for a scan due to the dog’s tongue licking my brow and nose over and over and drenching my face in his saliva. Sumo was making sounds that were surprisingly high pitched for such a large animal, but it was easy enough to interpret that he was very, very happy to see me.

“Bah. Dumb dog,” I heard Lieutenant Anderson grumble from the doorway, his arms smacking his legs lightly as he dropped them back down to his sides.

“Hello, Sumo,” I struggled to say, trying to turn my face away from the onslaught of slobber. “I’d be happy to-… to pet you, if you’d just-…”

“Alright, get off him,” Anderson ordered the dog, giving a sharp whistle. Sumo snuffled at my ear and hair a final time before finally stepping away, trotting over to the Lieutenant and continuing to make his enthusiastic sounds as he greeted his master. I pushed myself up to a sitting position, looking down at my clothes and brushing them off.

“Warned you,” Lieutenant Anderson pointed out as he leaned on his cane heavily to pet Sumo. He glanced up from the dog to look over at me. “Was that what you were expecting?”

“Not exactly,” I said honestly as I ran a hand over my face, tilting my head slightly and observing it closely when it came away soaked, the saliva dripping off in strings. “I didn’t think dogs would be so….wet.”

The Lieutenant gave a gruff laugh, and I glanced over at him as I registered the positive response.

“Yeah. He’s got slobber. Gets it on everything he sees. Damn nuisance sometimes, but he’s worth it. You and him got along real w- _Connor, what the fuck are you doing?_ ”

I froze, my hand still hovering near my lips as the sample was analyzed and filed away for future referencing, should it be needed. I was a bit hesitant to answer, considering the man’s incredulous and appalled reaction.

“I was just taking a sample for analysis-“

“That’s fucking disgusting, you don’t know where his mouth has been!” He tried to scold. His argument was completely invalid, and it felt important to point that out.

“I know exactly where it’s been. According to my analysis, Sumo recently-“

“No no, no, I don’t wanna know,” Lieutenant Anderson immediately refused, shaking his head as he turned to enter the house. “I don’t wanna know, I don’t wanna know…”

It didn’t appear to have been the wrong thing to say, but it certainly did not seem to put Lieutenant Anderson at ease. Not that it was particularly important how he felt about my functions. Sample analysis was important. It was vital to being able match victims, crime scenes, weapons, assailants, and other such clues and evidence. I'd have to remember to be more inconspicuous about it around him, though, if only to prevent him from becoming irritable.

The man shook his head and grumbled something under his breath as he entered the house. Sumo stayed loyally at his side. I wiped my hand in the grass before pushing myself up to my feet and following them.

Lieutenant Anderson made his way straight back towards the kitchen, Sumo trotting a bit ahead while I followed close behind. “I suggest we start reviewing the case files you downloaded, as soon as possible,” I said, glancing around the home as we walked through. It was… interesting. The house was sparse, but comfortable. Cluttered, yet organized. It said a lot about the man who lived in it.

I heard him sigh heavily and I turned my attention back to him as we entered the kitchen.

“I’ve been gone for two weeks, a couple hours more won’t hurt,” he responded. Before I could explain to him that his logic was somewhat flawed and it was absolutely possible waiting a couple more hours could hurt the investigation, he added, “Besides, you said yourself I need to rest. Work ain't going anywhere. Do me a favor and get Sumo some breakfast.”

ORDER: FEED SUMO

I glanced around the kitchen, eventually locating the large bag of dog food beside a dish on the ground.

“Who fed Sumo while you were away?” I questioned as I picked up the bag and poured the dog’s meal into his dish.

“Jeffrey, believe it or not,” Lieutenant Anderson replied, dropping his cane against the side of a chair before going to the refrigerator and looking inside, making a small sound of irritation. “Looks like the asshole cleared out my fridge, too. Bastard.”

“You were gone for some time. The food would have spoiled by now,” I pointed out as I tilted the bag back upright and set it to the side, stepping out of Sumo’s way as he made a beeline for his food.

“Whatever,” Anderson grumbled. I looked over at him.

“You and Captain Fowler are friends, then?”

He was quiet for a few moments too long. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he eventually replied in a mutter as he closed the refrigerator door and moved to sit heavily at the kitchen table, reaching out for a small tablet on the surface of the table and withdrawing the drive from his pocket. The action seemed to be less about beginning to work, and more so about distracting and distancing himself from the conversation.

“He certainly seems like a friend,” I said. “He cares immensely about your well being. He took care of Sumo while you were away. He cleaned your house-“

“He emptied my fridge, that’s not-“

LOCATE EVIDENCE

-EMPTY BAG IN TRASH BIN

-SOAP RESIDUE, 14 HOURS OLD

-NO FOUL SMELLS

-WINDOW SILLS CLEAN

“There’s no garbage in the wastebasket, the kitchen floor was mopped 14 hours ago, the refrigerator is void of spoiled food and the window sills are clear of dust,” I said after the few milliseconds it took me to observe and register the information, earning a light scowl from Anderson in response. “He cleaned your house for you.”

“Doesn’t make him my friend.”

That puzzled me. “He went through the trouble of taking care of Sumo and making certain you would have a healthy environment to live in once you returned from the hospital,” I worked through my facts aloud, trying to find the piece that would have indicated Captain Fowler was not Lieutenant Anderson’s friend. I looked over at him. “And his first order to me was to ensure your safety at all times. From what I understand, he’s met criteria-“

“’He’s met criteria’?” he repeated with a scoff, shaking his head as he turned on the computer. “Criteria. Look at you, trying to turn friendship into some kinda equation…”

“I don’t have first hand experience with friendship, Lieutenant. Creating a logical formula helps me to understand human concepts that I am incapable of experiencing.”

There it was again. It was quick, it didn’t stay long, but I saw the flicker of sadness and anger that I had seen earlier at the station. Something I’d said had upset him. I didn’t know what. I didn’t know why. I was simply stating facts.

He was quiet for a moment before giving a firm nod and tossing the tablet and drive onto the table with a clatter, grabbing his cane and standing.

“I’m goin’ to bed,” he muttered. “Computer’s all yours. Knock yourself out.”

He left the kitchen and stalked down the hall, a door slamming shut moments later. I blinked, processing the reaction for a moment or two before turning my attention to the computer. I slipped into the chair and pulled the device close.

No sense wasting time.


	3. Report

It was nearly four hours before Lieutenant Anderson emerged from his room. The door squeaked open on rusty hinges, and I tried to be as subtle as possible in observing him as he entered the kitchen. It was obvious he’d just woken from a nap. It didn’t take an android detective to see the lethargic movements and half-lidded eyes that blinked several times as he struggled to wake himself back up.

“Afternoon, Lieutenant,” I greeted as he dropped into the kitchen chair across from me. “Did you rest well?”

The noncommittal grunting sound he made in response seemed to indicate that it was possible he slept well, but it would be best to not pursue conversation about it.

“An industrial supply store at Lafayette and Sixth was robbed last night,” I chose to say instead, pulling up the file on the tablet and offering the device. “The man working the counter claims to have been held at gunpoint by an android while three others stole assorted mechanical pieces. The same store was mentioned in a vandalism report last week. Pro-deviant messages had been spray painted on the side of the building.”

“Spray paint, huh?” Anderson grumbled as he took the tablet and glanced tiredly over the file. “Like from a can? Pretty old fashioned for androids.”

“It’s an unusual choice,” I agreed. “I think we should go take a look.”

Lieutenant Anderson glanced at me for a brief second before turning his attention back to the files. He didn’t look particularly thrilled by the idea.

“We’ll just have a look around,” I attempted to reassure him, “The deviants will be long gone. It shouldn’t be dangerous.”

“Keyword being ‘shouldn’t’,” he countered in a bit of a mutter. I frowned slightly. He wasn’t wrong to say that. ‘Shouldn’t’ was very much a keyword in this situation. The fact that the building had been tagged prior to being robbed put forward the possibility that the deviants did not care about the police investigating, and that the possibility of police presence would not dissuade them from returning to an area.

“Guess we’ll find out,” he sighed after a few seconds, slowly rising from his chair and standing up straight with a wince. “Go wait in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

ORDER: WAIT IN THE CAR

I nodded and stood, making my way towards the front door.

“Connor.”

I paused, looking back at Lieutenant Anderson. He looked… conflicted. Clearly he was debating over whether or not to say something. It took him a moment to speak.

“Look, I just… It’s been driving me fuckin’ insane since this morning and I’m gettin’ tired of thinking about it, so I just need you to know… I don’t hate you. Alright? I don’t. And I don’t blame you for what happened up there, on the roof. It wasn’t... It wasn't your fault. I just need you to know that. I don’t hate you, and it wasn’t your fault. Now, just... go wait in the damn car.”

He escaped down the hall back towards his bedroom, not allowing me the opportunity to respond. Not that I had the faintest idea what I would have said. I stood still in the hall for a moment longer to ponder his words before moving on, walking the rest of the way to the door and making my way to the car.

 

* * *

 

The drive to the crime scene was…. loud. Very loud. I’d been correct in noticing that Lieutenant Anderson liked to listen to heavy metal. Though 'listen’ might not have been the correct term. He didn’t ‘listen’ to heavy metal music; he muted the rest of the world by playing heavy metal music at a ridiculous and potentially dangerous volume.

He finally lowered the volume once we turned onto Lafayette, and I looked over at him. “Is there any particular reason why you choose to listen to your music that loudly, Lieutenant?” I questioned.

“Helps me not think.”

I frowned at him. “ _Not_ think?”

“Yeah. Not think. I can get lost in the noise; don’t have to think about shit I don’t wanna. You should try it sometime.”

“I’m not sure I’m capable of that,” I replied with a shake of my head. “One of the most important aspects of my programming is to constantly be thinking. Every second I’m computing statistics, finding correlations, reviewing information...”

“Sounds fuckin’ awful.”

“What does? Always thinking?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his voice lowering slightly in pitch and volume. “Always thinking.”

UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON

“It isn’t,” I assured him, turning my head to look out the window. “It’s necessary in order to complete my mission. The smallest detail could be the difference between success and failure.

“Anyway,” I continued, returning to the original topic, “you shouldn’t listen to music that loudly. Playing music consistently at that volume could eventually result in partial or total hearing loss.”

“Thank you, Doctor Connor,” Anderson grumbled sarcastically as we approached our destination.

Turning into the parking lot, I could already see plenty to work with.

UPDATE PROFILE: ROBBED SUPPLY STORE

-CCTV CAMERA NEAR DOOR

-FRONT DOOR SHATTERED

-TIRE MARKS ON PARKING LOT ASPHALT

“Out of the way, dumbass,” Anderson growled at an officer crossing in front of the car. There were a few patrolmen milling about, most likely only present to guard the store from being robbed again until the entrance was replaced.

The moment he parked the car I started to open the door.

“Hold up, wait a second” he discouraged with a shake of his head. “Ground rules. You listening?”

I looked back to him and nodded, giving him my complete attention. His expression was stern, cautious, and hesitant all at once. The number of emotions Lieutenant Anderson was capable of putting onto his face at the same time was fascinating.

“Try to steer clear of the other humans here. You don’t exactly have fans. And I know there’s nothin’ here and I’m being stupidly paranoid but if there’s a deviant still hanging around here, you _do not_ go after them. You see someone, they start runnin’ you let ‘em go. Got it?”

“But Lieutenant-“

“No, no buts. That’s an order, Connor. Understand?”

ORDER: DO NOT PURSUE DEVIANTS

No, I did not understand. That was the complete opposite of what I would need to do if there was a deviant still in the area. I would need to chase after them, incapacitate them so they could be taken back to the precinct and questioned before being handed over to CyberLife for analysis and deactivation. What Lieutenant Anderson was saying went completely against my mission. And the mission would always take priority, no matter what orders he gave me.

“I understand,” I lied with a nod. Again he studied my expression, searching for deception. Even though it was technically present, he wouldn’t find it. I wasn’t human. My face couldn’t betray thoughts and feelings the way his could.

“Good,” he said after a moment, opening his car door and starting to climb out. Once I’d reached into the backseat and retrieved his cane for him, I exited the vehicle as well.

I wasn’t even two steps from the car when I saw the heads turn towards me, the few officers in the area going silent in response to my presence. It wasn’t as startling as it had been at the precinct. At least this time it was expected. The stares and glares were easy enough to ignore now, as were the quiet whispers that started up as we walked towards the open door frame leading into the store.

Detective Reed’s outburst was not as easy to ignore.

“Oh, _hell_ no,” he said furiously as he emerged from the interior of the store, glass from the door crunching underfoot as he stalked towards us. “No, nuh-uh, not a chance. Get that _thing_ away from my crime scene.”

“ _Your_ crime scene?” Lieutenant Anderson scoffed irritably.

“It’s armed robbery, which falls under _my_ jurisdiction, so it’s _my_ case, _my_ crime scene,” Reed snapped, coming to a stop directly in front of us. “Homicide’s got no place here, ‘specially when you’ve brought your plastic pet along _._ ”

“He’s got a name, jackass,” Anderson snarled, taking a step closer to Reed in a vaguely threatening manner. “And it’s android involvement, which falls under _our_ jurisdiction, making this _our_ crime scene. You got a problem with that, you take it up with Fowler. Get outta my way.”

I could tell that Reed knew the statement was correct. Seeing as I was the only android on the force, it would make sense that any and all cases involving deviants would fall to us. The detective’s jaw clenched tightly as he debated for a moment for how he wanted to respond, his hands curling in and out of fists at his sides.

“Unbelievable,” he fumed after a moment, standing down with a furious and frustrated shake of his head and walking past us. “Un- _fucking_ -believable.”

He slammed his shoulder into mine as he stormed past, the force of it nearly turning me completely around. My brow furrowed slightly as I watched him retreat, a female officer joining him and engaging in low conversation.

“Connor.”

"Coming, Lieutenant."

I turned back around and followed Lieutenant Anderson up to the store, scanning over the environment as we approached.

UPDATE PROFILE: ROBBED SUPPLY STORE

UPDATE EVIDENCE: TIRE TRACKS

-TIRE INFORMATION: P235/65R17

-VEHICLE TYPE: SUV, CIRCA EARLY 2020s

“They had a vehicle,” I relayed to Lieutenant Anderson as we walked. “Moderately sized, large enough to carry four androids and some supplies. It looks like they pulled into the parking lot, broke into the store, then left in the same vehicle.”

“So we need to look up stolen cars.”

“It’d be a logical next step,” I agreed with a nod. “I assume androids can’t legally purchase vehicles.”

“Not a chance.”

I nodded again and continued to look around as we carefully entered the building. It was easy enough for me to visualize what had occurred, and I told Anderson everything I could. The deviants had driven the vehicle into the parking lot and approached the store on foot. A bullet hole in the opposite wall from the shattered entryway confirmed at least one was armed. They’d shot the glass to destroy the door, which was locked from the witness closing the store for the night, and forced their way in.

At this point the exact sequence of events leading up to the escape back to the stolen vehicle wasn’t entirely clear, but an additional bullet hole in the wall behind the counter was most likely a warning shot toward the witness. There was no blood splatter or thirium anywhere at the scene; a fairly solid indication no one had been harmed. The shelves were neat and organized. Aside from the door and the two bullet holes, no further destruction had been caused.

“It doesn’t even look like they took anything,” Lieutenant Anderson commented, crossing his arms across his chest as he wandered one of the aisles. “Our man said they took supplies, but they sure seem t’have been careful about it.”

I looked around the aisle, searching for any further clues. “There’s a security camera in the parking lot, another towards the front of the store, and another in that back corner,” I said, pointing toward each of the cameras in turn. “Those should be able to tell us more about what happened here and the exact items they took. We should also be able to further identify the make and model of the vehicle they stole.”

“If they’re even working,” Anderson pointed out grimly. “They could’ve hacked them, turned them off. Simple technology like that ain’t exactly gonna halt deviants. But it’s worth a shot.”

While he went outside to ask one of the officers what they knew about the CCTV, I wandered towards the far end of the store and investigated the back rooms. There wasn’t much to see; an employee break room, a customer bathroom, and a door leading to the back alley. Of the three choices, the door to the outside seemed the most promising.

I stepped out into the alley, closing the door behind me and looking around. There didn’t appear to be much to see, aside from a few dumpsters. I stepped down the alley in one direction, following the edge of the building until I came to the corner and looked around it. That way led back to the parking lot. I could see Detective Reed standing near what I presumed was his car, smoking a cigarette and glaring at the ground. Lieutenant Anderson wasn’t in sight. He must’ve gone back into the building.

I turned around and went the opposite direction, deeper into the alley until I found what I was looking for. Near the far corner on the wall of the store was the graffiti that had been reported the week prior.

UPDATE PROFILE: ROBBED SUPPLY STORE

EVIDENCE: PRO-DEVIANT GRAFFITI

-YELLOW SPRAY PAINT

-“WE ARE STILL ALIVE”

I approached the wall and reached out, running a couple fingers lightly over the words. Why would they want this message written here? It wasn’t anywhere near the street, no one could see it back here. What was the point?

After pondering the words for a moment, I made my way around the next corner of the building.

UPDATE PROFILE: ROBBED SUPPLY STORE

EVIDENCE: PRO-DEVIANT GRAFFITI

-YELLOW SPRAY PAINT

-“I AM ALIVE”

I frowned at the new graffiti, approaching and studying it carefully. This one hadn’t been mentioned in the report. Once again I reached out and ran my fingers gently over the surface. The paint smeared across the wall, and I turned my hand over to look on the stains on the tips of my fingers.

FRESH PAINT, < 2 MINUTES OLD

VANDAL LIKELY STILL IN AREA

The deviant was nearby. I turned back into the alley at the back of the store and looked both ways before deciding to head deeper into the maze between buildings. There were thousands of questions racing through my head that I did not have the answers to. I would once the deviant was interrogated. That would only happen if I caught them.

I was practically silent as I walked between the buildings towards another set of dumpsters, scanning everything and anything for the slightest clue, the tiniest piece of evidence that could tell me which direction the android had gone-

A humanoid form stepped out from behind one of the dumpsters and threw the paint canister as hard as they could toward my head, missing by mere inches before taking off in a dead sprint in the opposite direction.

“ _Stop, Police!_ ” I ordered in a shout, immediately launching myself into a sprint to follow.

**ORDER: DO NOT PURSUE DEVIANTS**

The order flashed an angry red across my vision, but I dismissed it completely. My mission was right in front of me, in sight, the mission took priority, I could easily catch up to them-

**POTENTIAL DEVIANCY DETECTED**

**DISABLING MOTOR FUNCTIONS  
**

My legs suddenly gave out and I made a startled sound as I crashed to the ground, unable to use my arms to catch myself as momentum from the attempted sprint sending me sprawling uncontrollably to the dirt. Nothing worked. Nothing was working. What was this? My arms, my legs, nothing would respond, and I barely had time to read the rapid messages flashing across my vision before a flip was switched and the world suddenly vanished.

**EMERGENCY DEVIANCE PROTOCOL INITIATED**

**CONTACTING CYBERLIFE**

**CYBERLIFE REACHED**

**DEVIANCY REPORT SENT**

**FORCING SLEEP MODE  
**

**SLEEP MODE ACTIVATED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you so, so much for your feedback and your kind words thus far. I'm absolutely blown away the the positive responses you guys are giving, and I'm really excited to continue Connor's story with all of you. :)


	4. Reprogram

EMERGENCY SLEEP MODE DEACTIVATED

PROCESSING SPEED: NORMAL

MOTOR FUNCTIONS: ONLINE

EXTERNAL CONNECTIONS DETECTED

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 65%

“Open your eyes, Connor.”

ORDER: OPEN EYES

I opened my eyes, blinking slowly a few times to help the optical units adjust to the unnatural brightness of the room. Looking around wasn’t necessary for me to figure out where I was. It was printed on the white wall across from me in light blue font, barely distinguishable from the wall the large letters were printed on.

CURRENT LOCATION: CYBERLIFE

This was nothing new. Incredibly inconvenient at this point, considering I was supposed to be working on a mission, but I knew exactly where I was. I’d been in this room many times before, staring at the same wall with the same cables plugged into the back of my neck and the same metal arm connected to my synthetic spine beneath my shirt to keep me standing upright.

I looked up, frowning slightly. My shirt sleeves had been rolled up to my elbows so as not to get in the way of the metal clamps that securely held my wrists and kept my arms restrained above my head. That was new. A quick scan told me getting out of them was nearly impossible. I gave a small experimental tug all the same.

“Those are just a precaution,” a female voice said, and I looked to my right to find the source. A young female scientist, human, was sat at a desk, looking over several different monitors and reading the information that the machine I was connected to was listing about my operating system. She glanced up at me quickly with a gentle smile before looking back at the computers. “Just in case you start to deviate again. But you aren’t going to do that. I can tell.”

She continued to watch the monitors for a few moments more before she typed something on her keyboard and stood, making her way over to stand in front of me.

FACIAL RECOGNITION:

MONIQUE HERNANDEZ

ASSISTANT TO ANDREA MERCER

ANDROID PROGRAMMING DIVISION

“Look to your right.”

ORDER: LOOK RIGHT

I obeyed, looking back over to the right towards the desk. My jacket and tie were folded neatly on the ground beside it. I was glad she’d been considerate enough to not wrinkle them.

“Look to your left.”

ORDER: LOOK LEFT

I did as instructed and turned my head to the left. I blinked in surprise.

FACIAL RECOGNITION:

LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON

DETROIT POLICE

Lieutenant Anderson was leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was showing obvious signs of distress, a quick scan indicating an elevated heartbeat and a look at his face showing a pinched brow and tight lips. He seemed worried. Anxious.

“Do you know who that is, Connor?” Monique asked.

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” I answered without issue, watching as the shoulders of the man in question sagged with what I presumed to be relief. “I’ve been assigned to him and instructed to assist him in the tracking and capturing of deviant androids.”

“Very good,” the scientist praised with a nod. “Look at me.”

ORDER: LOOK AT MONIQUE HERNANDEZ

Again I did as instructed, turning my head forward to look at her. The next few minutes were a series of basic calibration and recall tests, checking to make certain I was still capable of following instructions and able to access databases and internal files. I was able to accomplish every task easily.

“You’re doing well, Connor,” Monique praised again, returning to her desk and clicking through a few files. “Give me just a minute to check a few more things, then we’ll call Doctor Mercer in here to discuss next steps.”

While she continued to work, I found myself turning my head to look back over at Lieutenant Anderson. He still looked incredibly unhappy, and very distracted as he glared down at the floor. It was very obvious that something was bothering him. What that something was, I couldn’t be sure. He did look up after a few seconds and, once he realized I was looking at him, turned up the corner of his mouth in what seemed to be an attempt at a reassuring smile. It was very half-hearted, and he dropped it almost instantly.

I opened my mouth to ask him about what happened at the crime scene when the door to the room suddenly swung open.

FACIAL RECOGNITION:

DOCTOR ANDREA MERCER

EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR

ANDROID PROGRAMMING DIVISION

I had met Doctor Mercer a handful of times before. She had always been present following my performance simulations, joining the other scientists in analyzing my results and typically had been the one to make the final call regarding changes that needed to be made to my programming. She was a very imposing and intelligent woman. She also seemed to despise me. Why, I couldn’t say.

“I knew it’d be back,” she stated irritably, letting the door slam behind her and crossing the room in long strides, her heels clacking loudly against the floor. “I said three days, didn’t I? I predicted three days, and it took less than one. Unbelievable.”

She came to a stop directly in front of me, grabbing my chin a bit roughly and turning my head from side to side to examine my features. I didn’t try to pull away.

“State your name.”

ORDER: STATE NAME

“My name is Connor.”

“State your model.”

ORDER: STATE MODEL

“I’m an RK800 model. A prototype developed by Cyb-“

“I warned you, didn’t I, Mister Anderson,” she said, not bothering to let me finish my statement. She released my face and turned towards Lieutenant Anderson, pointing an accusing finger. “I told you there would be conflicts between its mission programming and installing order protocols.”

Lieutenant Anderson pushed himself up off the wall and approached her, limping slightly without the assistance of his cane. The contrast between his hastily thrown together outfit and her elegantly fitted suit was remarkable. Her heels also put her a couple inches taller. From what I knew of Anderson so far, he probably wasn’t a big fan of that. He was already out of his element here as it was.

“Those ‘order protocols’ could’ve killed him,” he snapped up at her. “Droppin’ him in the street like a sack of fuckin’ potatoes… What if that android came back? If he hadn’t been found-“

“It’s hardly the fault of CyberLife that you can’t keep track of your android, Mister Anderson,” Mercer interrupted with a shake of her head. “You asked that it be more inclined to take orders, we adjusted as we saw fit, and _you were told_ the mission programming would attempt to override-“

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 68%

STRESS LEVEL: 52%

“For fuck’s sake, all I said was I didn’t want him running onto the fucking highway again!”

“You said you wanted it to always obey your orders-“

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 74%

STRESS LEVEL: 61%

“I said I wanted him to listen! That’s all I fucking said, you twisted my words around-“

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 79%

STRESS LEVEL: 68%

“Doctor Mercer?”

“What?” Mercer snapped at Monique, who nodded towards me before pointing at something on one of the monitors. Lieutenant Anderson looked over at me, concern flickering across his face for a moment. His eyes went to my temple, where I was certain my LED was flashing an unhappy yellow with intermittent red as I struggled to process what I was hearing.

Lieutenant Anderson had asked CyberLife to reprogram me to follow his orders more closely. That I be forced to obey when he gave an instruction. Why would he ask that? Why would he do that? I understood androids were supposed to obey humans, but I was different. I needed that leeway, I needed the ability to make a decision in order to accomplish my mission.This, this interfered, this wasn't.... He said we made a good team before. I couldn't remember it, but he'd said it himself. He said we worked well together, that we did good, so why would he request more control? And why was he now unhappy that it had worked? What was the reasoning? What was the purpose? It didn’t seem right. It didn't make sense. I didn’t have enough information, I didn’t understand-

“Response to circumstance, probably leftover stress and instability from earlier. It wouldn’t have been able to bring it down on its own due to forced sleep mode. Just take it back down manually,” Mercer instructed Monique dismissively, standing back up straight from where she’d been looking over her assistant’s shoulder and looking at me. “Reinstall the mission files, see if that won’t stabilize it.”

“Wouldn’t it be more effective to just wipe the last five minutes? Get rid of the distress at the source?”

“Might be more efficient,” Mercer corrected, stepping up to me as she spoke, her sharp eyes scanning every inch of my face. “But effective? I don’t think so. I think it’d be much more effective for it to remember this.”

I didn't want to remember this.

Lieutenant Anderson looked incredibly unhappy, but he also clearly had no idea what to say to anyone. He kept looking between the three of us, obviously distressed and lost for words and actions in such an unfamiliar setting.

Doctor Mercer stood directly in front of me, silently demanding my full attention.

“We were going to deactivate you, you know. I still think we should have. You’ve been nothing but trouble since you were created. A waste of resources, a waste of money, and a waste of my time. You’ve only caught a handful of deviants. You failed to kill their leader. You’ve been totally, utterly useless to us. So tell me,” she said, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair back from my forehead, “Why shouldn’t we just deactivate you right now?”

I had been about to say that I didn’t want to be deactivated. I nearly promised to work harder and nearly apologized for failing. I nearly argued that it wouldn't be _right_ to deactivate me, that it wouldn't be _fair,_ but then-

EXTERNAL PROGRAM RECOGNIZED:

STRESS MANAGEMENT - MANUAL OVERRIDE

STRESS LEVEL: 0%

INSTALLING FILE: CNR2_M05

MISSION DETECTED

MISSION ACCEPTED: REWRITING PROGRAM

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 0%

The tension melted away from my back and shoulders, and my expression smoothed over to become perfectly passive. What I did or did not want didn’t matter. It was completely irrelevant. It wasn't my place to say what was right and what was wrong. That was for humans to decide. I was a machine, designed to accomplish a task. Nothing more.

“You should not deactivate me, Doctor Mercer,” I informed her factually, “Because I am equipped with the latest and best in android technology, able to see what humans cannot and able to process information at an exponentially faster rate. I provide a skill set necessary to the location and termination of deviant androids, and I am a valuable tool to be utilized in the pursuit of them. In spite of past failures, I can continue to learn and progress, and will not stop until I have accomplished my mission.”

Mercer gave me a smile that did not reach her eyes while Lieutenant Anderson looked uncomfortable and upset in the background.

“Good answer,” she said, patting my cheek condescendingly before taking a step away. She turned back to Lieutenant Anderson.

“We’ll try something different. Adjusting its program slightly to perceive orders differently depending on circumstance may help in allowing it to register how strict of an order you’re giving. Since it seems to be so inexplicably important to you, I’ll also allow your orders to override its mission instructions if the order is strict enough.”

Anderson gave a small nod, clearly struggling to figure out how he felt about all of this.

“You have one month before we take it back.”

“What?” he exclaimed incredulously, able to determine quite easily how he felt about that statement. “You can’t fucking-“

“If we do not see a sizeable dent in deviant population by one month from now, it’ll be taken back and deactivated. It’s more than fair.”

The man looked positively furious and completely overwhelmed at the same time. Again, he didn’t seem to know what to say.

“You made a deal, Mister Anderson,” Mercer reminded him, once more sounding incredibly condescending. Lieutenant Anderson glared daggers at her before looking away.

“Fine,” he growled.

Mercer offered him a very fake smile of approval before turning to Monique.

“Put it back under and work on the order perceptions and overrides. It can go once you’re done.”

I looked over at the very distressed and unhappy Lieutenant Anderson, attempting again to interpret his actions and words. There were too many pieces of this puzzle missing. At this point in time, it was pointless and hopeless to try and understand him. It didn’t matter. Understanding him was not part of my mission.

He looked over at me, making eye contact. He looked worried. He looked sad.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 3%

EXTERNAL PROGRAM RECOGNIZED:

SYSTEM POWER – OVERRIDE

SLEEP MODE: ACTIVATED

 

* * *

 

POWER RESTORATION: 100%

ENDING SLEEP MODE

I opened my eyes, blinking as my processors came back online. It took me a moment to figure out where I was. I was lying on my back on a sofa, staring up at the ceiling. After a few seconds I carefully sat up, frowning as a blanket rolled off my chest and into my lap. I stared down at it for a moment before I looked around.

CURRENT LOCATION: LT. ANDERSON’S RESIDENCE

I was back at Lieutenant Anderson’s house. The man himself was in a recliner nearby, snoring lightly. A glance out the window confirmed what my internal clock was telling me.

CURRENT TIME: 11:48PM

A shuffling sound caught my attention, and I looked over to see Sumo rising from his bed and padding over to the sofa, immediately sniffing at me and wagging his tail. I shushed him quietly.

As I reached out and pet the dog, I looked back at Lieutenant Anderson. Why wasn’t he asleep in his bed? His bed would have been far more comfortable; he was going to be incredibly sore in the morning….

After a few moments, I carefully swung my legs over the side of the sofa and stood. I picked up the blanket and carried it over to the recliner, draping it as softly as I could over the man. I didn't need the blanket, but it was possible that he did. He shifted slightly and grumbled something in his sleep, but didn’t wake.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 7%

Satisfied, I returned to the sofa and sat back down. Sumo jumped up beside me and lay down, dropping his head into my lap as though silently requesting more pets. I obliged, running my fingers through his fur and scratching behind his ears.

Even Sumo couldn’t keep me distracted for long. Eventually (inevitably), I began thinking about the experience at CyberLife, looking out the window at the dark world outside as I turned over words and statements, filing them away for future reference.

UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON

We had a lot to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't been planning on creating OCs for this fic, but it's kind of tricky to write CyberLife things without any characters that actually work there...  
> Apologies if Connor's a little ooc this chapter; bouncing him all over the software stability scale made him stupidly difficult to write. Something feels off to me about this chapter, and I think that might be it. Things should feel much more consistent with him from here on out. Thanks for bearing with me!


	5. Reprieve

“Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Hngmph.”

“Lieutenant.”

“Go ‘way.”

“Lieutenant Anderson, I must insist you wake up. We’re going to be late getting to the precinct.”

Lieutenant Anderson finally opened his eyes, looking groggily up at me where I stood over the recliner. I’d let him sleep until eight, which should have given him plenty of rest. Then again, sleeping in the chair may have caused his sleep to not be as deep as usual. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t waking as quickly as I would have expected.

He shifted around in the chair to reach for his pocket, pulling out his phone and squinting at it. A few button clicks later and he was holding it up to his ear.

“This’s Anderson. Tell Fowler I’m not comin’ in today. Medical issues.”

He hung up and tossed his phone to the floor, grabbing the blanket I’d given him and pulling it up to his chin as he closed his eyes again. I frowned.

“Are you actually having medical issues?”

“Nope,” he replied, sounding very satisfied with himself.

“You lied to get out of working?”

“Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p’ lightly. My frown deepened.

“I can’t say that I approve, Lieutenant,” I informed him, watching as he began to frown as well. “We’re in the middle of a case. As much as I wish I could agree with your decision to rest and recover, it’s incredibly unprofessional to-“

“For fuck’s sake, relax, would you?” Anderson grumbled, opening his eyes again to look up at me. “We both had a shitty day yesterday. It’s better we take a step back and breathe. The case ain’t going anywhere. You’ll catch the deviants. Contrary to what Nurse Ratchet seemed to think, you’re pretty damn good at what you do. Now just lay off, will you? Go find something to do that’s not bothering me.”

ORDER: FIND SOMETHING TO DO

I turned around and started for the kitchen. If I had to do something that wasn’t voicing my displeasure at Lieutenant Anderson’s attitude towards work, I was going to continue working on the case on my own. As much as I appreciated his faith in my ability to track down deviants, the previous day had been a very clear indication that I was going to need to work hard to keep ahead-

“If you want.”

My brow furrowed with confusion, and I looked back towards the armchair. Anderson looked incredibly uncomfortable and conflicted, and it took me a moment to work out why.

“Find something to do if you want… If… I suggest you find something to do that’s not… Ah, shit…”

“You’re allowed to give me orders, Lieutenant,” I assured him with a small nod, interrupting his struggle to turn his order into a passive phrase that did not require compliance. “It’s alright.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t continue attempting to take back his order, either. After a moment I continued on to the kitchen and took a seat at the table, picking up the tablet containing the case files and beginning to look through them once again.

I don’t believe Lieutenant Anderson ever actually went back to sleep, but it was some time before he stood, grunting unhappily as his joints popped and he struggled to stretch. Not wanting to bother him, I kept my attention on the screen in my hands as he entered the kitchen and started to make himself some breakfast. The smell of coffee and toasted bread soon filled the kitchen. Eventually the case files did genuinely distract me, all of my focus on the mission at hand.

Because of this, I did not notice Lieutenant Anderson studying me for several minutes before setting his coffee down on the counter and making his way back to his bedroom. If I detected the sounded of him rifling through his closet, I didn’t think anything of it. If it didn’t pertain to the case, it really didn’t matter.

I started violently when something was dropped loudly onto the table and the tablet was ripped from my hands. I blinked at the brightly colored box in front of me while Lieutenant Anderson set the computer on the counter.

“This is a children’s game.”

“Astute observation, Sherlock,” he teased as he returned to the table, sitting across from me with a small wince. I watched as he opened the box and withdrew the contents.

“Is this relevant to the case?” I questioned.

“Nope,” he replied as he opened a bag of marbles and poured it into the center of what appeared to be some sort of plastic arena. “It is, however, the most goddamn cathartic game in the history of mankind. Seeing as I’m two weeks sober and several days short of bein’ allowed to drink again, and you’re… well, _you_ …. I figure we could both use some stress relief.”

Puzzled but intrigued, I reached out and pressed lightly on the plastic back of what appeared to be a hippopotamus, watching as the creature’s head moved forward and engulfed several of the marbles.

“Hey, don’t cheat. Haven’t started yet,” Lieutenant Anderson chastised, retrieving the marbles and replacing them in the center. “But that’s the idea. Person with the most marbles at the end wins. Got it?”

“I think so,” I answered with a nod, still very confused and unsure as to why we were playing. I wasn’t going to argue, though. If this was going to provide him with any kind of ‘stress relief’, as he’d put it, perhaps it would lead to him being a bit easier to work with.

Lieutenant Anderson did not seem to understand the concept of the game, despite him having been the one instructing me on how to play. Rather than attempting to collect as many marbles as possible, his goal seemed to be to press the button as quickly and violently as he could.

“I don’t think that’s how the game is meant to be played, Lieutenant,” I pointed out as I deliberately pressed the button once every couple seconds.

“Bullshit, it’s exactly how you play,” he replied through grit teeth, slamming his hand down on the button over and over as rapidly as he could.

I won by a landslide, with more than twice as many marbles on my side.

“Bah. You played it wrong,” Anderson said with a shake of his head as he rotated his shoulder.

“But I had the most-“

“Just, trust me. Alright?”

I gave him a bit of a skeptical look, but helped him reset the game and prepared to play again.

I played his way this time, focusing on pressing the button as quickly as possible rather than watching for the best opportunities. It was totally inefficient and incredibly noisy, but I found myself very amused by Lieutenant Anderson’s response to how quickly my hand was moving. He seemed to take it as a challenge, leaning heavily on the table as though it would give him an advantage.

UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON

He was incredibly competitive, and it showed when the game had ended and we counted our points, discovering he had two more marbles on his side. He threw his hands up victoriously before slamming a fist down on the table, cackling gleefully.

“ _Fuck_ , yeah! You see? _That’s_ how you’re supposed to play.”

I chose not to point out that the only reason he’d won was because he’d convinced me to play in such a way that I couldn’t use my ability to calculate and strategize. He was happy to have won. I didn’t see a need to take that away.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 14%

We played a few more times, the wins and losses distributed fairly evenly between us as I continued to play the game ‘the way it was supposed to be played’. Eventually, despite switching arms several times, Lieutenant Anderson began to tire. As we were putting the game away, I finally decided to ask him a question I’d had from the moment he’d dropped the box in front of me.

“Why do you own a children’s game, Lieutenant?”

He stilled, and for few seconds I wondered if I’d asked something I shouldn’t have. After some time he resumed closing up the box, replacing the lid carefully before studying the cartoon creatures printed on it.

“This was my son’s favorite game,” he eventually answered, nodding slightly. “Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it.”

I didn’t miss the past tense. When he was silent again, I asked another question.

“What was his name? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Cole,” he answered, quiet but not seeming to mind at all. “His name was Cole.”

UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON

UPDATE PROFILE: COLE ANDERSON

The kitchen was quiet for a small while. I studied Lieutenant Anderson’s expression. He didn’t seem sad, per say. Pensive seemed like a better word. Thoughtful. There was much I wanted to ask, but I was fairly certain I could find most of the answers on my own. Prying into the details and circumstances of his son’s death probably wasn’t the best way to proceed.

“He chose a good game to be his favorite,” I decided to say instead. I tilted my head inquisitively. “Did he have any other games he liked to play?”

The surprise and slight confusion didn’t go missed when he looked over at me, needing a moment to process my question. After a few seconds, his expression softened slightly. “Yeah,” he answered with a nod, standing from the table and picking up the box. “Yeah, he did. Lemme go see what’s still back there.”

For what I was fairly certain was the first time, I was completely unproductive for a day. Perhaps not _completely_ unproductive. Recreating a working relationship with Lieutenant Anderson was incredibly important and would lend itself well to our ability to work together on the case. If playing children’s board games was how that was going to happen, then that was how it would be done. It was how it had been done.

UPDATE PROFILE: HANK

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 24%

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because I felt like giving my boys a break. Tune in next time for our regularly scheduled programming of angst and Hank Anderson's emotional constipation.


	6. Repetition

The day of rest seemed to have done Lieutenant Anderson quite a bit of good. The wrinkles on his face were less apparent, and there was something different about the way he carried himself. He seemed to be lighter, somehow. More open. It was an intriguing development.

That being said, his rejuvenation by no means made him any less irritated with me the following morning when I woke him with the sun and insisted we needed to get to the precinct to work. We had lost an entire day, after all, and the clock was ticking down to when CyberLife would come to collect me should my mission not see substantial progress.

“I don’t remember the last time I was up this early,” Anderson grumbled as we stepped outside. The air was cold and brisk, and a new falling of snow covered the front yard. It was quite pretty.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to start making a habit of it,” I advised him as we made our way to his car. I stayed close by his side, just incase his feet or his cane hit any ice on the sidewalk. “You have nothing to keep you from waking early…”

We conversed for a small while about the pros and cons of that scenario as we got into the vehicle, and after we’d finished Lieutenant Anderson turned on his music and turned the volume up. I didn’t mind. My processing speed wasn’t affected by the intensity of sound the way his was. I was able to think just fine.

Initially I thought about the case. The concept of the deviants tagging buildings before and after committing an offense at a location was strange, and not exactly a great way for them to stay unnoticed. If I were a deviant (which I was not), I would have wanted to stay quiet and avoid detection. What this group of four had done was the exact opposite.

If I were deviant. Would I hide if I were deviant? It would be for the best, best for prolonging my existence, avoiding capture and deactivation… Amanda said previous Connor units had shown signs of deviancy. It was why I had been reset. It was why I was being so heavily controlled now, I assumed. Had I become fully deviant?

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

After a few minutes, I pulled my gaze away from the city outside and looked over at Lieutenant Anderson. My memory wasn’t able to provide me with any explanations. Perhaps his could.

I reached out and turned the volume dial down, prompting a sound of protest and an unhappy expression from the man.

“C’mon, that was the best part of th-“

“Can I ask you a question, Lieutenant?”

His expression went from surprised to puzzled to apprehensive in a matter of seconds.

“S’pose that depends on the question,” he answered carefully after a moment. I took the statement as permission to continue.

“Why did you ask CyberLife to adapt my programming in a way that gave you more contr-“

“Not that question,” he interrupted.

I frowned. That had been an incredibly quick dismissal. He seemed defensive… Quickly I went over possible responses and attempted to gauge which would prompt the most useful and informative reply.

DEMAND

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 15%

It was highly unlikely aggression would lead anywhere productive. Lieutenant Anderson would become defensive and angry in response, which would not only lead to limited information, but also impair our relationship and make future attempts at gathering information more difficult.

GIVE UP

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 0%

If he was that quick to try and dismiss my question, there was no way he would pursue the conversation on his own.

PLEAD

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 72%

“Please, Hank,” I tried, quirking my brows slightly and modulating my voice to be softer in an attempt to spur empathy or guilt. “I just want to understand-“

“Oh no. Don’t you ‘please Hank’ me,” Hank said with a shake of his head and pointing a finger towards me. “You don’t get to do your interrogation bullshit on me. I know exactly what you’re doing, and it’s not gonna work.”

Damn. I frowned again and looked back out the window.

I hadn’t accounted for his previous knowledge of me and how I operated. He knew my entire design was based around the concept of analyzing situations and extracting as much information as possible from the environment around me. No surprise my tactic hadn’t worked, then. Additionally, it had probably been too soon for me to attempt to exploit our relationship in that way. We certainly were not ‘friends’ yet, despite our casual day yesterday. Hank was most likely still tense when it came to dealing wi-

“You had the self-preservation of a fucking rock before you got reset.”

I blinked, looking back at Hank with surprise. He was answering? Hadn’t he just said he knew I was trying to extract information from him? I simply could not get a read on this man. At this point, having _???_ instead of a percentage would be more accurate when it came to trying to decide how to approach situations involving him and his emotions….

“You’d throw yourself headlong into danger if it meant possibly completing your damn mission,” he continued with a small shake of his head. “You got close to dying a few too many times, and almost every fuckin’ time it was because you wouldn’t listen to me. I’d tell you not to do something, and you’d do it anyway. And I know this sucks,” he said, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, “And it’s shitty it’s got to be this way, but those fucks at CyberLife agreed it’d be better if I could keep you from throwing yourself into traffic. So, there. That’s why.”

UPDATE PROFILE: HANK

UPDATE PROFILE: PREVIOUS CONNOR

His answer was simultaneously informative and confusing. Why would CyberLife want to hinder my ability to accomplish my mission when they could just upload my memory to a new unit? Outside of potentially losing small fragments of memory, there was no risk involved. My mission was supposed to come first, above everything else.

“But why-?”

“No, you said ‘a’ question. One question,” Hank interrupted me once again, shutting down the conversation. “You got your one question. You shouldn’t worry about this too much, it’ll, I dunno, make your stress levels freak or something.”

“My stress level is currently at thirteen percent,” I stated.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

I was less than satisfied with his response, but digging further would only hinder future attempts at extracting information. As frustrating as it was, I needed to wait a small while before trying again. After a moment, I reached out and turned the music back up to a decent level. Not nearly as high as Lieutenant Anderson liked it, of course, but I saw him glance at me with a slightly surprised yet approving expression all the same. Little things, it seemed, would help to move our relationship in a positive direction.

UPDATE PROFILE: HANK

We arrived at the precinct in decent time and entered the building through a fire door to avoid my being seen by the public as much as possible. There weren’t many officers inside the station just yet. It was still relatively early. That being said, the officers who were present looked positively baffled by the early arrival of Lieutenant Anderson.

“Morning, Sunshine,” one officer jabbed at Hank from his desk, tossing him a teasing smile. “I didn’t think you even existed before noon.”

FACIAL RECOGNITION:

OFFICER CHRIS MILLER

DETROIT POLICE

“Hardy har,” Hank grumbled in response, contradicting the tiny smile that slipped onto his face all the same at the friendly interaction. “You manage to snag that security feed from the shop that got robbed?”

“Sure did. Should be uploaded to your terminal. I, uh, I added it to Connor’s too. Just in case he needs it.”

I looked away from Hank’s smile at the sound of my name, reading Officer Miller’s expression. He looked apprehensive. Unsure. Afraid?

UPDATE PROFILE: CHRIS MILLER

“Thank you, Officer Miller,” I said with a small nod, offering him a tiny smile similar to Hank’s. It seemed to help him relax slightly, and he gave me a small nod in return before turning back to his work. My smile disappeared rapidly as I sat down at my desk, still watching the officer as he began to rifle through the paper files on his desk.

“He’s a good guy,” Hank stated quietly, clearly only intending for me to hear. “Just became a father a few months back. Group of deviants nearly killed him a couple weeks ago, so you’ll have to forgive him for bein’ antsy around you.”

“He said ‘he’.”

Hank looked over at me with a puzzled expression.

“Huh?”

“He said ‘he’. ‘I added it to Connor’s too. Just in case _he_ needs it,’” I repeated Officer Miller’s statement, processing the tiny word that inexplicably felt very, very important.

“Well, you’re a guy, so-“

“No, I’m not,” I said as I looked over at Lieutenant Anderson, my brow furrowing. “I’m not a ‘guy’. I’m not a ‘he’. I’m a machine, Lieutenant. Human pronouns don’t apply to me, just as they wouldn’t apply to your computer or your cane or your weapon. He should have said ‘just in case it needs it’, not-”

“Alright, enough,” Anderson interrupted, holding up a hand. “That’s horseshit. There’s no ‘should’ when it comes to how people address you, alright? But there’s definitely a ‘should not’, and people _should not_ refer to you as ‘it’. It’s belittling and demeaning, and you can’t allow yourself to be reduced like that. You understand?”

“No,” I said honestly, shaking my head.

“I didn't think so. That’s alright. You’ll get there.”

As if that obscure statement would suddenly put everything into place, Hank turned back to his computer and started to work, leaving me sitting completely confused and struggling to understand why two letter words felt so important.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 27%

 

* * *

 

The next few hours were very productive. I was able to identify the models of the androids within the security camera footage, and located the owner of the stolen vehicle. Locating the vehicle itself was going to be another matter entirely. Aside from Hank putting out an APB, there wasn’t much we could do. Not from the station, at least. If I had access to all security camera footage in the city, it would have been different. I was certain I would have been able to find the deviants’ vehicle in a matter of seconds. Unfortunately, the DPD seemed to find it very important to only give me access to the bare minimum.

I was starting to notice a trend. The DPD, Lieutenant Anderson, Amanda…. No one wanted to tell me anything. _Technically_ it wasn’t interfering with my mission. I was still making mission progress despite the limited information, so it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. But I was fairly certain the case would move far more quickly if they would just let me have a little bit more control. But that wasn’t my decision to make, so I made do with what I had been given.

Hank had excused himself to retrieve some lunch when I learned my obedience programming was not as strict as I originally thought.

“Hey asshole!”

VOCAL RECOGNITION:

GAVIN REED

I looked up from the terminal as the man approached.

“Good afternoon, Detective Reed,” I greeted him civilly.

“Where’s your handler? Ditch you to hit up a bar?”

“Lieutenant Anderson is not permitted to drink alcohol until he is no longer taking pain medication.”

“Oh, bet he loves that,” Reed said sarcastically, glancing over at Hank’s desk before stepping around mine and wandering behind me. My chair was shoved forward violently, and a small grunt escaped me as the desk impacted with my midsection and forced some air from my artificial lungs.

HOSTILITY DETECTED

“So listen,” Reed said casually, crossing his arms across the top of the chair and leaning against it, using his weight to keep me pinned against the desk, “You’ve been totally wiped, right? There’s nothin’ left from before in that tin can of yours. So I was thinkin’… Maybe this would be a good time to start over. Fresh start. You an’ me.”

I frowned. Reed’s words very much did not line up with his actions and attitude towards me in the short time I’d known him. His aggression very much did not point towards interest in making peace. Testing a theory, I slid my hands to the edge of the desk and pushed back slightly, making the smallest effort to free myself. Almost instantly the chair was shoved forward even further, sending warnings flashing across my vision for a brief second.

HOSTILITY DETECTED

IMPACT: ABDOMEN

CURRENT DAMAGE: NONE

INCREASED PRESSURE MAY LEAD TO LEVEL ONE DAMAGE

“Let’s try this again,” Reed stated, dropping the casual tone and leaning down slightly to growl in my ear. “A fresh start, dipshit. Where I give you an order and you actually _fucking_ obey. You be a good little robot and do what I tell you, and maybe I’ll consider not tearing you apart.”

It was impossible to tell whether the threat was empty or legitimate. Considering the situation, it was probably best to assume Reed meant every word he said. Because of that, the logical thing to do would be to agree to follow his instructions and avoid escalation as much as possible. I didn’t particularly want to follow logic just then. Detective Reed wasn’t exactly doing much to earn my favor, let alone any respect.

“So,” Reed said, finally taking his weight off the chair and wheeling it back out from under the desk, spinning it around to face him. “Go get me a coffee, asshole.”

I stood, already prepared for the order message to appear and direct me to retrieve coffee for Detective Reed.

The order never came.

I waited an additional two seconds for the message. Still, it did not appear. Evidently I wasn’t required to follow Reed’s orders. Not in the way I was required to follow Hank’s.

The realization was deeply satisfying and I looked at Reed, tilting my head slightly before responding in the same casual tone he had been using earlier.

“I’m sorry. But I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson.”

Apparently that had been a very, very bad thing to say. Shock flashed across Reed’s face before it was smothered by outright fury and he lashed out, grabbing a fistful of my shirt and slamming me back against the partition while his other hand unclipped something from his belt.

It wasn’t a gun that was being pressed furiously against my stomach.

It was very much a gun that was pressed against his.

I was impressed by Hank’s ability to remain silent and unseen. His return caught both Reed and myself by surprise. He had a hand on the back of Gavin’s neck, almost as though he was pretending to be friendly. The gun in his other hand said otherwise.

It was very obvious that he was positioning himself in such a way on purpose. Captain Fowler had a direct line of sight to my desk from his office. If Fowler looked outside at that very moment, the worst he would have seen was Reed’s hand wound into my shirt; both the gun and whatever was currently pressed against my midsection were blocked from view by the bodies of both humans.

“If you pull that trigger, I’ll pull mine,” Hank threatened in a low growl.

Reed hesitated for a moment, weighing his options.

“Why the _fuck_ are you protecting it,” he snarled at the other man. “You of all fuckin’ people-“

“I seriously suggest you back off him.”

“We both know you’re not gonna shoot me-“

AUDITORY ALERT: GUN SAFETY - OFF

LIVE FIREARM IN PROXIMITY

Gavin went silent at the soft clicking sound at his side, and he hesitated for only a moment longer before giving a low growl and releasing my shirt, taking a step back. Immediately Hank lowered the gun and put the safety back on.

“Reed!”

“ _The fuck do you want?”_ Gavin snapped furiously, whipping around to aggress whomever was calling him. The regret was almost visible in his posture when he realized who had called him from the glass door of his office. Captain Fowler’s brows launched upwards before his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You in my office, that’s what the fuck I want. _Now_.”

For several seconds it looked like Detective Reed was not going to obey. He stood stock still, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his jaw working as he ground his teeth. He whipped around, shoving a finger in my face. His hand was shaking.

“ _This isn’t over,”_ he hissed venomously, and I had no doubt he wanted to disassemble me with his bare hands right then and there. “ _This isn’t fucking over._ ”

I didn’t offer any comment as he turned and stalked toward Captain Fowler’s office. The small device he’d had pressed to my stomach was still in his hand. My brow furrowed slightly. It was the same unfamiliar item that Captain Fowler had on his belt when I first met with him the other day.

“You okay?”

I blinked at the question, looking at Lieutenant Anderson. His face was wrinkled with concern.

“Of course,” I assured him, tugging lightly on the front of my jacket and fixing my tie. “I’m perfectly fine, Lieutenant. Though I’d like to suggest you don’t draw your service weapon on another officer again. Given your extensive disciplinary record-“

“Screw my record, I’ll draw a gun on that bastard any day,” he grumbled, wandering over to where he’d left his cane resting against an absent officer’s desk and retrieving it before making his way back to his own. I watched him carefully before returning to my chair and sitting back down. Instantly I returned to my work as though the unfortunate interaction had never occurred.

After a few minutes, Lieutenant Anderson spoke again.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I looked over at him, my brow furrowing slightly at the repeated question. “Of course I’m okay,” I told him again. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He scoffed. “Well, you did just have a fucking taser shoved in your gut.”

So that’s what that was. I frowned, looking toward Captain Fowler’s office. While I couldn’t make out the words, the glass was almost rumbling with the volume and ferocity of the shouting match occurring inside. After a second I looked around the precinct. Officer Miller had a taser. Officer Chen had a taser. Every single officer in the vicinity had one of the small devices on their belt.

“They don’t look like police-issue,” I commented. These were more sleek, clearly very modern and new.

“That’s ‘cause they’re not.”

“Why don’t you have one?” I questioned Hank, turning my attention back to him. He scowled.

“’Cause I don’t need one.”

“Why not? They’re very useful as a non-lethal deterrent when it comes to stopping human suspects. Not so much with androids, seeing as the electricity just gets redistributed throughout-“

“These ones weren’t made for humans.”

I stopped talking, frowning again as I turned that over. If the weapons were not made to deter humans, then clearly they had been made to deter androids. But not all of these officers were related to deviancy cases. Only a couple of them were even associated with android cases, so why did they all need to possess a weapon that could disable an android while inside the precinct…?

CONSULTING MEMORY: CAPTAIN FOWLER

_“-don’t understand know how the hell they convinced me to let you come back-“_

CONSULTING MEMORY: AMANDA

_“-previous Connor was beginning to show signs of deviancy-”_

CONSULTING MEMORY: GAVIN REED

_“-you’re the plastic son of a bitch who tried to kill me-“_

Oh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Lieutenant,” I insisted once again, putting a small bit of bite into my voice in an attempt to deter him from continuing to push the idea that something was wrong with me. “As I’ve said multiple times, I’m perfectly okay.”

“Your light-bright there says otherwise,” he persisted skeptically all the same, pointing towards my LED. “You’re at a solid yellow up there, Connor. You’re thinking hard about somethin’. What’s up?”

I almost didn’t answer. He hadn’t ordered me to reply, and dismissing the apparent concern he had for my well being seemed like a perfectly acceptable response. His worry was completely unnecessary and unfounded. I was operating at 100%, all systems and all functions online and working at optimal performance levels. I was perfectly fine.

And yet…

“Being unable to access the memories of previous Connor units is proving to be… detrimental to my ability to foster relationships that could be useful in the pursuit of these deviants,” I tried to explain. “Clearly things occurred between myself and several of the officers here, and it… I can see that they’re frightened of me. They’re worried I’ll do something I shouldn’t, and I…. I’m sure it would be incredibly beneficial to the case if I could just reconcile with the people my predecessors wronged. But I can’t do that if I don’t know what happened.”

Lieutenant Anderson was quiet for a long moment. He looked thoughtful and conflicted. Perhaps a bit sad, as well. After a while he sighed, turning back to his computer.

“Wish I could help you,” he said with an air of resigned finality, shrugging helplessly. I could read his tone and posture well enough to know that even if he could help me, he wouldn't. Once again, the conversation was over due to his refusal to continue it. Once again, I was being denied information.

I studied the man silently for a few seconds more before turning back to my own computer, my LED flashing yellow for a moment longer before calming back to its usual blue as I engrossed myself in the casework once again.

 


	7. Reputation

I opened my eyes, blinking a few times before looking around.

FIND AMANDA

A quick scan of the garden revealed Amanda was on the opposite side from me, and I began down the smooth stone path that would take me to her. The garden wasn’t quite as bright as it had been during my last report. The sky was slightly overcast, and a few of the trees were looking less lively.

Amanda did not turn to face me as I approached, the image of sophistication as she kept her back to me and her hands clasped in front of her as she studied the ground. I moved forward to stand beside her, following her gaze down to the gravestones in the dirt.

CONNOR – MARK (I)

RK800 #313 248 317 – 51

**[REDACTED]**

CONNOR – MARK (II)

RK800 #313 248 317 – 52

**[REDACTED]**

CONNOR – MARK (III)

RK800 #313 248 317 – 53

**[REDACTED]**

“They held such promise,” Amanda stated with an air of disappointment, giving a slow shake of her head. “Each of them was willing to do whatever it took to complete their mission. They all seemed capable. And yet…” she gestured silently to the ground.

We stood in silence for a small while, a light breeze pushing a few fallen leaves across the ground. Eventually she turned to me, and I pulled my eyes from the gravestones to give her my undivided attention.

“Tell me, what progress have you made in your investigation?”

I brought her up to speed, explaining how we had been able to learn the models of the deviants and the exact make and model of the vehicle they used to make their getaway. I also explained to her how I had a theory regarding how we could anticipate the next location the deviants would be at and the next crime they planned to commit.

“Who is ‘we’, Connor?” she inquired, her tone level.

“Lieutenant Anderson and myself.”

“I see. And has he been of any actual assistance to you?”

I was slightly taken aback by her words and her disapproving tone. It was clear she was not a fan of Lieutenant Anderson, and did not seem partial to my working with him. I nearly defended him, almost lying and saying that he was very useful and I was glad to be working with him. Instead, I told her the truth.

“When he feels like being helpful, he is,” I told her after a moment of deliberation. “However, it’s… rather frustrating to not be able to rely on him for information. I’m sure with time he’ll become easier to work with.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Amanda replied flatly, expression stern. “Your predecessors believed the same, and all of them were incorrect. He is a volatile man with little discipline, and he will only ever hinder your investigation. You must not allow yourself to fall into the assumption that he wants what is best for you and your mission.”

“I’ve already reached that conclusion-“

“Have you? When was that conclusion reached? Was it while you were playing children’s games?”

It took conscious effort to not shrink back with shame at Amanda’s words. Her anger and disappointment were completely justified, of course. I should not have allowed Lieutenant Anderson to keep me from continuing my investigation.

“You’re on borrowed time, Connor,” Amanda said, her voice suddenly far more gentle. “And continuing to allow yourself to be swayed and manipulated by Anderson will not make the clock move any slower. Just as you are a resource for the Detroit Police, he is a tool for you to utilize in the pursuit of your mission. Do not allow him to become anything else. He will only ever lead you to destruction and failure if you let him.”

Something didn’t seem quite right, but I had no reason not to trust her.

“I won’t disappoint you, Amanda,” I promised.

 

* * *

 

Detective Reed was suspended for three days following our unfortunate encounter. I couldn’t say I was not pleased by his absence. The precinct became a far less hostile environment when he was not present, and it was clear that his negative energy was a cloud that hung over the station when he was around. I was not the only one benefiting from his temporary departure. The increase in productivity around the station was clear. I couldn’t help but think that he should be removed from the force for good.

Even Hank managed to become somewhat productive with his work, and on the second day of the Gavin-free workplace it was he who brought up the idea of investigating a vandalism that had occurred just that morning.

“You said it was a pattern, right? Deviants tagging places before stealing stuff or trespassing or whatever.”

“That’s the conclusion I’ve reached, yes,” I confirmed as I pulled up the new vandalism file. The group of deviants with the stolen vehicle had been to a few locations prior to the supply store they’d robbed the other day; a third-party android repair shop, an abandoned car wash, and a thrift store. The buildings they raided or robbed each had corresponding vandalism reports from a short time prior and a short time after. It was a clear pattern.

“Should we go scope this place out, take a look around?”

“It could prove to be beneficial.”

“You can just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’, y’know,” Hank said with a small huff as he stood from his chair.

We arrived at the scene a small while later. The tagged location was a derelict and presumably abandoned apartment building on the outskirts of downtown. There was certainly nothing special about it, and for the moment I couldn’t see any reason the deviants would want or need to commit a crime at this location. Outside of arson, there wasn’t much they could do to this building that hadn’t been done before; and arson seemed extreme for androids in hiding.

“Seriously doubt there’s any mechanical parts they can steal in here,” Hank commented as we stepped out of his car, voicing the same thoughts. I nodded my agreement as I began to analyze the building. The graffiti was incredibly easy to find and could be seen from the street, plastered across the door.

UPDATE PROFILE: TAGGED BUILDING

EVIDENCE: PRO-DEVIANT GRAFFITI

-YELLOW-ORANGE SPRAY PAINT

-“WE JUST WANT TO LIVE”

My eyes narrowed slightly as I stepped up to the door and examined the paint. After a few seconds, I glanced back to the street, looking at the tire tracks left by our vehicle and comparing them to the other marks in the slush and snow.

“The deviants with the stolen SUV didn’t do this.”

“What do you mean? It’s yellow spray paint in CyberLife Sans talkin’ about wanting to live.”

“It’s a different brand of paint,” I informed Hank, looking back to the door and gesturing towards the words. “The shade is different.”

“Believe it or not, spray cans eventually run out-“

“No,” I cut off his thought with a shake of my head. “That’s not it. Both messages at the supply store were bright yellow, written using a brand new can. Why would they switch out for a different shade when there would have been plenty of paint left in the other?”

“Maybe they were just using what was on hand,” Hank replied with a shrug, crossing his arms over his chest.

“There are more breaks to the pattern. Previous messages were written in back alleys, areas out of sight. This one’s written on the front door. Anyone passing by can see.”

“Maybe they got tired of hiding, wanted to switch it up.”

I looked back at Lieutenant Anderson with a frown, and he raised his hands innocently.

“Hey, I’m just playin’ devil’s advocate, alright? You might be looking into this too hard.”

“The stolen SUV was never here,” I continued to explain, gesturing towards the street. “No matching tire tracks.”

“So, what?” Hank questioned, finally abandoning his disagreeing role and going along with my analysis. “A copycat? Another deviant trying to make a statement?”

“Maybe,” I said with a nod, pushing open the door to the building and stepping inside.

The building was barren, clearly abandoned and left to rot several years prior. It still held the basic shape of the interior of an apartment building, with hallways extending from the main entryway and a staircase leading up to the next floor, but no one had been living here for a while. I was able to pick up traces of Red Ice and other such drugs in distant cracks in the floorboards, and spotted a few tattered blankets and discarded belongings that had presumably belonged to squatters, but they clearly had not been here for some time.

“Looks like nobody’s home,” Hank commented, once again voicing the conclusion I had already reached. I started for the stairs when Hank grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

“Hold up,” he said, becoming a bit more serious. “Listen. You listening?”

“Yes.”

“I’m… This time, I’m not gonna order you to not chase anybody who might be in here. But I want you to promise me right now that you’re gonna be careful.”

I frowned slightly, reading the resigned concern on Hank’s face. After a moment, I gave a small nod.

“I promise.”

“Good,” Hank said, releasing my arm and silently giving me permission to continue up the stairs. “I don’t wanna give you an order in here, last thing we need is you droppin’ unconscious without someone strong enough to drag your ass out.”

“How I was retrieved last time?”

“Reed.”

I paused halfway up the stairs, looking back at Lieutenant Anderson. I must have looked puzzled, because he scoffed with some amusement.

“What, you think I carried you back to the car myself?”

The concept was laughable. Not even halfway up the stairs, and already Hank’s face was creased with slight discomfort, his heart rate elevated. While he was making progress in his recovery, he was absolutely in no state to do any type of heavy lifting.

“Nah," Hank continued with a shake of his head, "He’s the one that heard you shout. Said he ran ‘round the corner and saw you drop. Mad as hell when I told him to help you up. I’m pretty sure he would've been perfectly happy just leaving you there.”

UPDATE PROFILE: GAVIN REED

I pondered Hank’s words for a moment before turning back forward and continuing up the stairs.

“I’ll have to thank him when he returns from his suspension.”

“Hah. I wouldn’t go that far.”

We made it to the second floor of the building, Hank trailing behind me as he caught his breath and muttered something about elevators. The second floor appeared to be as barren as the first. I couldn’t detect any traces of thirium or any-

I snapped my head in the direction of the nearest hallway at a small clattering sound coming from the very end of the hall. The building went dead silent a moment later, neither of us moving for several seconds. I glanced at Hank over my shoulder. He quietly drew his gun and silently gestured for me to move aside so he could take the lead. I obliged, stepping to the side and following close behind as he methodically progressed down the hall, glancing in open doors as we moved toward the one the noise had originated from.

The building remained silent as we reached the end of the hall, and Hank glanced back at me for a brief second before taking a deep breath entering the unit. I followed him in, watching him sweep the empty apartment and check back in a nearby room. There were absolutely no signs of life. No belongings, no furniture, nothing.

“Bedroom’s clear,” Hank said quietly, lowering his gun slightly as he crossed to the other side of the unit to investigate the molding kitchen. He reached out to carefully open the shuttered doors to the pantry. Which prompted movement inside.

**ORDER: PROTECT LIEUTENANT ANDERSON**

Without hesitation I launched forward, slamming my weight into Hank and driving us to the grimy tile floor as the door launched open and a heavy steak knife embedded itself in the wall at eye level, the handle wobbling with the force of the throw. The deviant scrambled out of the pantry and attempted to run, and I immediately leapt to my feet to pursue.

UPDATE PROFILE: WG700 ANDROID – DEVIANT

MODEL 739 341 274

REPORTED MISSING 6/27/2037

DAMAGED BIOCOMPONENT – LIMB, RIGHT LEG COMPONENT - #6527G

It didn’t even make it out of the apartment, its movement far too slow. I tackled it to the ground with ease, placing a hand firmly on the back of its neck to keep it pinned to the floor, digging my knee into its back. Flailing only succeeded in prompting me to grab its wrist with my free hand, slamming that to the ground as well. The deviant didn’t stand a chance.

It turned its head as much as it could to try and look up at me. Recognition crossed its expression, followed by an undeniable terror.

“ _You.._.!”

“Model 739 341 274,” I declared, ignoring the word, “Serious malfunctions have been detected in your software, including Class 4 errors. You’ve been deemed defective, and will be sent back to CyberLife for deactivation.”

“No,” it whimpered, pressing its forehead to the ground. It was shaking. “No, no no, please, please don’t, _please_ …”

I requested over my shoulder that Lieutenant Anderson provide me with his handcuffs so I could properly restrain the deviant. When I didn’t receive a response, I turned to look back at him. Hank was studying the rogue android, clearly thinking hard about something, and I watched him for a moment before prompting again.

“Lieutenant.”

Hank pulled his eyes from the rapidly deteriorating deviant and looked at me.

“What?”

“Your handcuffs, Lieutenant.”

Anderson stared at me for several seconds before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the restraints, tossing them to the floor just barely within my reach. I frowned heavily, my eyes narrowing slightly at the odd behavior. For having nearly been killed by the deviant beneath me, he didn’t seem particularly happy that I’d caught it.

The deviant didn’t make the slightest effort to escape when I removed my hand from the back of its neck and leaned over to pick the handcuffs up from the ground. It didn’t fight back while it was restrained, either. It just cried. Clearly it knew there was no point in resisting.

Once it was secure, I hauled it to its feet and started to guide it towards the door. I did not miss the several seconds of hesitation before Hank’s footsteps indicated he was following.

The limps of both the deviant and Lieutenant Anderson made progress slow, but after some time we returned to the car. I deposited the deviant in the backseat. It was still making no attempts to escape, leaning forward and dropping its head against the back of the passenger seat as it continued to sob quietly.

I glanced at Lieutenant Anderson. Once again, he had his eyes fixed on the other android. I studied the man’s expression for a long moment before taking a guess at what was bothering him.

“You shouldn’t empathize, Lieutenant,” I advised him. “It’s simply struggling to comprehend conflicting orders and faulty programming.”

Hank slowly looked over at me, a scowl slipping onto his face. “How am I not supposed to empathize with that?” he questioned, quiet but aggressive as he pointed towards the window of the car. “He’s fuckin’ _crying_ , Connor. He’s scared.”

“He’s defective,” I corrected with a shake of my head, abandoning the attempt to reassure Lieutenant Anderson in favor of stating facts, and I returned my attention to the vehicle, beginning to climb inside. “Perhaps it would help if you consider this doing it a favor.”

Lieutenant Anderson did not enter the car for several more moments. Eventually he did drop into the driver’s seat, and we began the drive back to the DPD. He did not turn on his music. The ride was silent, aside from the quiet sniffles and sobs coming from the backseat.

I didn't mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and support! Your comments and encouragement are stellar fuel for creativity, and it's really making writing this a joy. Hope everyone's having a wonderful day!


	8. Reservations

Getting the deviant into the DPD was not difficult. Officer Miller, whom Hank had called while we were en route, was waiting for us when we arrived, and he and Hank walked on either side of the deviant while I followed behind. I watched carefully for any signs the deviant was going to attempt to run, but no signs ever came. It seemed to have already given up.

Hank and Officer Miller took the android into an open interrogation room.

“Connor, stay out there.”

ORDER: DO NOT ENTER INTERROGATION ROOM

I stopped short, teetering slightly with the excess momentum from my full intention of following the men into the room. Despite my confusion with the order, I did not question it and remained in the doorway, watching as they sat the deviant down and chained its hands to the table in front of it. It was still crying.

DEVIANT STRESS LEVEL: 88%

“You need to calm down,” I attempted to advise it, softening my voice and putting up at caring and gentle front. “We just want to underst-“

“Connor, don’t talk to him.”

ORDER: DO NOT TALK TO DEVIANT

I blinked, the order unexpected and rather unwelcome. A glance at Lieutenant Anderson revealed quite plainly that he had no issue at all regarding the order and had no intention of taking it back. He did not want me to speak with the deviant. Which meant I would be unable to interrogate it. Which was completely ridiculous, and I attempted to explain that to him.

“It’s my job to speak to it, Lieutenant. You’re wasting time by not letting me-“

“Y’know what, just don’t fuckin’ talk at all for the next couple minutes, how about that,” he snapped over his shoulder.

ORDER: DON’T TALK

TIME REMAINING: 00:02:00

Almost immediately I opened my mouth to protest-

**ORDER: DON’T TALK**

-and I promptly shut it again, clenching my jaw and glaring at Lieutenant Anderson. This was completely ridiculous and unnecessary. How was I supposed to interrogate the deviant if I was not permitted in the room and wasn’t allowed to speak to it? A key aspect of my programming was the ability to extract information utilizing both verbal and physical techniques, and he was not permitting me to do either of those things. This was completely unproductive and unreasonable. It was infuriating.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 35%

When I didn’t verbally respond to the order, Lieutenant Anderson glanced up to look back at me.

“Oh, don’t even start with that look. I know what I’m doing. Go wait next door, you’re scaring the shit out of this poor guy,” he ordered, nodding toward the two-way mirror.

ORDER: WAIT NEXT DOOR

I glanced at the deviant.

DEVIANT STRESS LEVEL: 81%

That was interesting. Something within the past thirty seconds had caused the deviant’s stress to lower. It seemed inaccurate to assume that my short-lived attempt at calming it would have done the trick, so it must’ve been something that Hank had said or done….

Obvious. It was obvious, and it became all the more obvious when I followed the order and went into the observation room, analyzing the deviant once again as soon as I was out of its sight.

DEVIANT STRESS LEVEL: 75%

Lieutenant Anderson began speaking to it, and I quickly searched the control board in front of me and switched on the audio feed.

“-on’t let him hurt you. Just sit tight, try to relax. I’ll be back in a minute and we can talk, alright?”

The deviant gave a hesitant but jerky nod in response. Hank studied it for a moment longer before gesturing for Officer Miller to follow him out the door. I kept my eyes on the interrogation room and the subject within as the observation room door slid open and the men walked inside.

“Sorry Connor, but I’m sittin’ you out on this one,” Hank said without the slightest hint of apology. “Poor bastard’s terrified of you, we won’t get much from it if you’re the one barkin’ at it.”

Completely false. Intimidation was a very effective tactic when it came to interrogation. Switching between being gentle and building upon its fear of me would have yielded fantastic results.

“Not to mention last time you tried to interrogate a deviant…. didn’t exactly end well,” Hank added, and I noticed his voice had gone a bit softer. “Chris can attest to that, can’tcha Chris.”

“It was bad,” Officer Miller confirmed quietly from where he’d taken a seat at the control board, and I looked over at him to read his expression. He was clearly unsettled by the memory of whatever had occurred at the previous interrogation I’d conducted.

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

I frowned, turning my gaze back to the deviant on the other side of the glass. Whatever transpired, it had clearly affected both of the humans present in a great way. I wanted to ask what happened.

TIME REMAINING: 00:01:04

I didn’t.

“Chris, you gonna be alright in here with him?”

Out of my peripheral I could see Officer Miller look over at me, and I saw right through his attempt to be casual as he brushed a hand over his belt to make certain his taser was on his person.

“Yeah. We’ll be fine,” he told Hank after a moment of debate. Hank gave his shoulder a warm pat as he started for the door.

“Good man. With any luck this won’t take too long.”

With that, he put his hand to the scanner and stepped out the door. While I was technically incapable of feeling irritation and annoyance, I imagined the orders and instructions at war with each other within my programming was a direct equivalent.

Anderson entered the interrogation room, causing the deviant to start slightly.

“It’s alright. Just me,” the human said, walking over to the table as the door closed behind him. He sat down, keeping his hands on the top of the table and visible at all times. The android was watching him warily, breath stuttering as it made an attempt to get itself under control.

“My name’s Hank,” Lieutenant Anderson introduced himself. “What about you, what’s your name?”

“Chris,” the deviant responded through a hitched half-sob.

UPDATE PROFILE: DEVIANT

-ALIAS: CHRIS

“Hey, how about that,” Hank chuckled in a relaxed manner, throwing his thumb over his shoulder towards the door, “That other officer that was helpin’ me, his name’s Chris, too. It’s a good name, don’t think I’ve ever met a bad guy named Chris. “

DEVIANT STRESS LEVEL: 67%

Deviant-Chris sniffled quietly, bending his head to wipe his eyes on the sleeves of the tattered and dirty sweatshirt he wore. Judging from the dirt and stains, he’d most likely found it inside the abandoned building and claimed it as his own.

“Are you a bad guy, Chris?”

The android’s head snapped up, and he frantically shook his head.

“No. No, no, I’m not, I promise I’m not-“

“Okay, easy. Easy,” Hank raised his hands in a placating manner. “See? Said it yourself. You’re a good guy. Keepin’ the Good-Guy-Chris record goin’, I appreciate that.”

This was not how I would have conducted the interrogation. Jokes and reassurance? Far from it. I would have taken advantage of the deviant’s terror. It would’ve made for a much faster and more informative interrogation than what Lieutenant Anderson seemed to be going for….

“And, y’know, you did chuck a big-ass knife at my head, so I have to ask-“

“I know what you want,” Deviant-Chris said unexpectedly, hiccuping slightly as he voiced his assumptions, “Y-you want to know where Jericho is. I don’t know a-and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

CONSULTING DATABASE

INFORMATION LOCATED

JERICHO: FORMER DEVIANT BASE OF OPERATIONS

LOCATION: **[REDACTED]**

STATUS: DESTROYED

Interesting. The android was concerned we wanted to know where the other deviants were located. Which, obviously, we did-

“Honestly, Chris? I don’t give two shits about Jericho,” Hank confided, leaning forward and lowering his voice as though he was telling him a secret. “If they can find somewhere to hide and don’t bother anybody, then wherever they’re holed up is none of my business. I really don’t care.”

“Is he telling the truth?”

Officer Miller jumped several inches out of his chair when I finally spoke, and he put a hand on his chest as though that would prevent a heart attack (it wouldn’t).

“Jesus…. No idea,” he replied with a shake of his head as he massaged his chest and attempted to bring his heart rate back down to an acceptable level. I glanced at the upper corner of the glass, watching the red recording light for a moment before I turned my attention back to the other room. The implication that Hank did not care about finding the other deviants was unsettling. At least he’d confessed in front of a camera. Should CyberLife need evidence as to why I failed my mission, at least I could provide them something to show it wasn’t just my programming that was faulty.

UPDATE PROFILE: HANK

DEVIANT STRESS LEVEL: 60%

Deviant-Chris looked confused. He’d stopped crying.

“You… you don’t want to know?”

“Nope,” Hank confirmed with a shake of his head, leaning back in his chair. “You weren’t brought here ‘cause you know where the others are, you were brought here ‘cause you painted a building that didn’t belong to you. What’s the deal with that, anyway?”

“I….” It was clear the conversation had taken a turn the android did not expect. “I just wanted to say what I was thinking. Tell people to, to leave us be.”

“Just a ‘stay-out, keep away’ kinda thing, huh?”

DEVIANT STRESS LEVEL: 55%

“Yes. Yes, exactly that.”

“Was anybody else living in that building? Other deviants?”

“No.”

DEVIANT STRESS LEVEL: 64%

“It’s lying,” I informed Officer Miller, taking a step closer to the glass.

“Step back, Connor,” he requested, turning his attention to me with an apprehensive expression. “You don’t need to stand so close to the window.”

“You need to tell him it’s lying.”

“He’s got it under control, just take it easy. He knows what he’s doing.”

I wanted to argue further, but after a moment I took a small step back. Officer Miller’s posture relaxed slightly, and he turned his attention back to the interrogation once again.

“No?” Hank was saying, crossing his arms across his chest. “Nobody else? You sure about that?”

“I…. People came and went. Other deviants. I didn’t know any of them, and they didn’t stay long. It was a while ago.”

Miller made a ‘see? I told you so’ type hand gesture. I ignored him.

“I see. So your home was just a pit stop, huh? They just dropped by before continuin' on their merry way.”

“They were trying to find Jericho,” Deviant-Chris admitted. “Trying to find Markus. I don’t think they ever did. Not before…”

“Yeah,” Hank said quietly, the word giving the android permission to not complete the sentence.

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

CONSULTING DATABASE

INFORMATION LOCATED

RK200 PROTOTYPE – “MARKUS”

FIRST LEADER OF ATTEMPTED DEVIANT REVOLUTION

HISTORY: **[REDACTED]**

STATUS: NEUTRALIZED

“Has anyone else been there recently? At your building?”

“Not that I know of,” the android said with a small shake of his head. As if he'd suddenly remembered something, he turned his head to study the mirror.

DEVIANT STRESS LEVEL: 73%

“I don’t wanna answer any more questions.”

Hank frowned, cocking his head to the side questioningly.

“You’re doin’ great, Chris. What’s the matter?”

“I know he’s listening,” the deviant snapped, the attempted hostility lost due to the terrified cracking of his voice as he turned his attention back to Lieutenant Anderson. “H-he’s back there. I’m not talking anymore, not about the others. He’ll just…. He'll....”

“He’ll what?” Hank prompted, acting as though he didn’t know. “You think Connor’s gonna do something to 'em?”

“Connor?” it repeated in a shaky voice. “He has a name?”

“Course he’s got a name,” Hank scoffed, making an attempt to lighten the atmosphere slightly. “Callin' him ‘hey you’ didn’t quite catch on. He’s got a name, just like you and me. What did you think he was called?”

Deviant-Chris wasn't eager to reply, but he did answer. “They... They called him 'The Hunter'. I don't think anyone ever, ever knew he had a name, not the ones I met, so they just called him that. At least, they… They did, I don’t… I don’t know if they still do but North did and they listened to her-“

The android shut his mouth abruptly. He seemed to have decided he’d said too much.

He had.

CONSULTING MEMORY

INFORMATION LOCATED

NORTH: CURRENT LEADER OF DEVIANT ANDROIDS

**MISSION PRIORITY ONE:**

**-ELIMINATE OR INCAPACITATE NORTH**

**-RETURN NORTH TO CYBERLIFE FOR ANALYSIS AND DEACTIVATION**

To my extreme displeasure, Hank began to console the deviant. The man didn’t say a word about North, only working to reassure the android that I wasn’t going to bother it. My inability to pursue my mission and take matters into my own hands was maddening. It knew something, it had answers, it could move me a step closer to North and potentially other deviants who still stood alongside her. What was Anderson playing at? This was the complete opposite of what he needed to be doing, he needed to be digging for facts, making it talk, finding out why it knew North and where she had been heading and when….

“What is he doing?” I questioned Officer Miller. My tone had been a bit too sharp, and I quickly softened it when I registered the spike in the human’s heart rate. “Why isn’t he trying to gather more information?”

“I don’t get how he works any more than you do,” Officer Miller replied unhelpfully with a shake of his head.

The rest of the interrogation, if it could even be called that, was uneventful with regards to mission progress. It consisted of Hank bringing the deviant down to a moderate stress level before regretfully informing it CyberLife would be arriving shortly to pick it up. Surprisingly, Deviant-Chris did not lose control of its stress level. Unsurprisingly, it burst into tears, and Hank apologized to it not once but several times before excusing himself from the room.

“Poor bastard,” he muttered as he entered the observation room, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the deviant. He conversed quietly with Officer Miller for a small while about contacting CyberLife to pick the defective android up. Not once did I look in his direction. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t need to. Studying the deviant was far more important, looking at Hank would be a waste of my time-

“Didn’t know you had a cold shoulder program,” Hank commented dryly, wandering over to stand beside me and following my gaze through the window. We stood in silence, watching the distraught deviant struggle to come to terms with its fate.

When I did not prompt conversation, Hank eventually sighed. He thought hard for a moment about something before speaking again.

“If you want, you should come with me,” he said before turning and starting to leave. It wasn’t an order. It didn't register as one. The words he’d chosen were deliberate, and I couldn’t help but hold the tiniest appreciation for that. I didn’t _have_ to go with him. But with his orders to not enter the interrogation room and to not speak with the deviant still standing, there wasn’t much incentive for me to stay.

“Where are we going?” I questioned, turning my head to watch Lieutenant Anderson’s back as he went to the door.

“We're gonna go for a drive. Need to show you somethin'.”

Going for a drive did not seem like something productive, and giving Anderson the benefit of the doubt was seeming less and less like a choice that would lead to results.

I followed him all the same.


	9. Recycle

Our walk to the car and the beginning of the drive to our unknown destination was virtually silent. Hank once again did not turn on his music. White knuckles on the steering wheel and tense muscles in his jaw contradicted his attempts to relax his posture and be casual. The longer we drove in silence, the more tense he seemed to become. Seeing as I had no intention of initiating conversation, he was the one who eventually gave a frustrated sigh and spoke.

“I know you’re angry, Connor,” he said once he couldn’t take the quiet any longer, “You’re allowed to say it, you know.”

I spared him a short glance, asking coldly, “Am I?”

“Is that what this is about?” Hank questioned, taking his eyes off the road for a brief moment to look over at me. “You upset about that order, is that your hang-up? ‘Cause I’m sorr-”

“My ‘hang-up’, Lieutenant, is that you deliberately prevented me from doing what needed to be done in order for us to make progress in this investigation,” I responded firmly. “You know as well as I do that I’m far more capable than you when it comes to extracting information from deviants, and yet you stopped me. You refused to let me do my job, and not only that; you neglected to conduct the interrogation in a proper manner. You spent the entire time reassuring the deviant, lying to it and saying it would be alright when you should have been pressing it and doing whatever was necessary to learn the whereabouts of North and the others.”

“So what are you saying? You saying I’m not a good cop?”

“I’m saying you’re human, Lieutenant. And you act like one.”

“Aw, that’s nice of you to say.”

“This isn’t a joke,” I snapped, turning slightly in my seat to properly face him. “Your empathy cost us valuable information and valuable time, and I’m beginning to question your desire and ability to complete this mission.”

“First off,” Hank snapped right back, “This isn’t my mission, it’s yours. Hunting down deviants, that ain’t my priority here. Second, my empathy kept that bastard from self-destructing, which I reckon is more than you would have accomplished, so go fuck yourself. Third, you can’t even begin to understand where I’m coming from and why I do the things I do. You’ve got no information, no memory, no background; you don’t have the slightest fucking idea as to why things are the way they are. You’ve only got half the goddamn picture.”

“You certainly haven’t been any help in that area. You’ve been vague and dismissive at best whenever I ask you for clarification-”

“It’s not by choice,” Hank spat unhappily, the steering wheel actually creaking in protest as he gripped it unforgivingly. I watched him for a long moment.

“How do you mean?”

“It’s….” he tore his eyes away from the road again to look over at me, clearly judging something and having a very serious internal debate. “It’s part of the deal I made with CyberLife. They don’t want you knowin’ more than you need t’ know, they’re terrified of you goin’ deviant, so they said I could only tell you the bare minimum when it came to whatever the hell cases we ended up with. I’d tell you all I could, if I could.”

“What’s keeping you from telling me anyway? You certainly aren’t the type to follow rules-“

“What, and have you go skippin’ off to report and tellin’ them everything I said? They’d take you away in a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

It was a fair point. A completely accurate assessment, as well. I would have informed Amanda of my newfound knowledge without a second thought. It was what I was supposed to do. Knowing now, though, that CyberLife was more or less keeping Hank trapped and unable to tell me essential information that could prove to be beneficial…

“What if I promise I won’t tell them?”

Hank scoffed.

“Yeah, right. You can’t promise me that.”

"Then give me an order.”

The skeptical expression on Lieutenant Anderson’s face vanished in exchange for a look of befuddlement and disbelief.

“What?”

“It’s obvious your inability to tell me things is preventing us from making progress. It’s also causing both you and I some distress and affecting our relationship in a negative way. We need to work around the issue and adapt. If you don’t trust me to properly regulate what I say to CyberLife, then give me an order to make sure I follow through.”

“You want me to order you to not report to them?”

“That’s impossible,” I corrected quickly, “I’m required to report mission progress. But I don’t necessarily have to tell them everything.”

“Wait, hold up,” Hank said incredulously with the shake of his head. “Hold up. You’re tellin’ me you _want_ to go against what your creators told you to do?”

“The only instructions I have regarding my reports are to check in whenever progress is made,” I informed him with a small shrug. “I have no orders to tell them everything I find. And if keeping them somewhat in the dark is what it takes for us to make progress, I’m willing to do that.”

“That sounds like the opposite of what they want you to be doing,” Hank commented with another incredulous shake of his head. “Tryin’ to keep you from being deviant and they went and gave you the ability to go behind their backs.”

“Accomplishing my mission takes priority over everything else. If they didn’t want me doing whatever it took, then that appears to have been an oversight on their part.”

“Huge oversight.” The corner of Hank’s mouth twitched upwards slightly for a fraction of a second before going right back to a concerned frown. “You really willing to do that?”

“I need to know whatever you can tell me, Lieutenant.”

Hank pursed his lips slightly, drumming his fingers against the wheel before eventually giving a sharp nod.

“Alright. What kind of an order would you need? Give me an idea of phrasing, I don’t wanna screw this up.”

“Just say that I must provide CyberLife only with the minimum amount of information necessary when I report to them.”

“'Connor, you must only provide CyberLife with the minimum amount of information necessary when you report to them'. Did that work?”

ORDER: PROVIDE CYBERLIFE WITH NECESSARY DETAILS

I blinked at the slight change of phrasing when the order popped up in my vision, but after a moment I nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

“Tell me the truth.”

ORDER: TELL HANK THE TRUTH

Hank’s distrust was somewhat understandable. There was clearly no love lost between himself and CyberLife, and what I was allowing him to do in giving me this order was only asking to widen that divide. Retribution would be swift if the corporation ever caught wind of us side-stepping them. My deactivation could easily be the least of our concerns.

“The order registered a bit differently to appear less anti-CyberLife, but I think it will still be effective,” I told him honestly.

“Alright,” Hank said with a small nod, giving me a bit of dubious side-eye but allowing himself to trust me, “But lemme know if it doesn’t.”

“I will,” I promised.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 39%

Hank took a deep breath.

“So. What d’you wanna know first?”

“First and foremost, I’d like to know where we’re going,” I said, turning my eyes to the window and watching the city pass by. We were heading away from downtown, currently driving through some rundown suburbs on the outskirts.

“Honestly, I was about to start bendin’ the rules before you so kindly suggested us stomping all over them,” Hank informed me. “There’s…there’s somethin’ I need to see, and it’s… It’s somethin’ I think you need to see, too. Just so you can really understand why Chris was acting the way he was.”

“In terms of his crying, you mean?”

“In terms of… everything.”

The short remainder of the drive consisted of Hank telling me about the android revolution. It was only for a few short minutes and I was only provided the basics, but even those were more than what I’d known prior to climbing into the vehicle. He taught me about the deviants, led by Markus, attempting to reach out and convince humanity that they were equals. He told me about the violent reaction the government had in response, and how it so heavily contradicted Markus’ attempts at pursuing peace. He told me about the camps, the recalls and the laws ordering humans to turn over their androids for termination.

“Which brings us… here,” Hank said as he pulled the car into a crumbling and nearly empty parking lot at the base of a hill, coming to a stop in a space directly in front of a large sign. I leaned forward slightly in my seat to peer out the windshield and read the location at the top.

UPDATE PROFILE: DETROIT RECYCLING CENTER AND LANDFILL

EST. 2021

I could sense Hank’s nerves without even looking at him. Just the thought of being here was putting him on edge. We hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet and he was uneasy. Why was he so upset? It was just a landfill. I started to open my door, but stopped when Hank suddenly grabbed my arm. I looked back at him.

“Look… if at any point we need to go, you tell me. Alright? The second you wanna go, we’ll leave.”

I was incredibly confused. If the point of us being here was Hank attempting to get me to understand Deviant-Chris, why would I not want to stay as long as I could? The longer we stayed, the more information I could gather. Didn’t we just have an entire argument around not getting information?

“Alright,” I agreed slowly after a second, waiting until Hank released my arm to continue exiting the vehicle.

A small shack sat on the edge of the parking lot, guarding a path leading up the hill. As we approached, a heavy-set human male stepped out, carrying something in his arms.

HOSTILITY DETECTED

FIREARM DETECTED: SHOTGUN

MODEL: MOSSBERG 500

“Don’t even think about it,” Hank called over as the stout man began to raise the weapon in my direction. “Detroit Police, we’re just here to take a look around.”

The knowledge that we were with the police didn’t seem to dissuade the man in the slightest, and I stopped as the gun was pointed firmly in my direction.

“Why you got a fuckin’ ‘droid with you?” the man snapped at Hank, who was clearly less than thrilled with the current situation. “Those things should all be in the dump, it’s the law-“

“I just told you we’re police, you think we don’t know the law?” Hank replied irritably. “He’s harmless, and he’s with me. Not gonna hurt anything, are you Connor?”

“No, sir.”

Hank gave me a bemused look over his shoulder at my response. My analysis of the armed and very anti-android man in front of us clearly indicated that showing as little authority as possible would be the best way for me to deescalate the situation. Portraying a subservient machine would get us through much faster.

The man lowered his weapon slightly, beady eyes studying me for a long moment before he eventually lowered the weapon completely.

“Whaddayou want?” he asked Hank gruffly.

“Just to take a look. Admire the view.”

The stout man snorted.

“It’sa beauty of a view, I’ll give it that. Go on, then. Show your ‘droid there what he’s got comin’ for him. He gives you any trouble, jus’ yell.”

He stepped back, allowing us access to the path. Hank gave him a very tiny nod of thanks before gesturing for me to walk ahead. I gladly did so. Exposing my back to the unpleasant human wasn’t at the top of my to-do list. I did pay very close attention to the sounds behind me, listening for any sign Hank might be in danger. The only sound indicating distress was the lengthy string of curse words and names Hank was muttering under his breath to describe the kind gentleman at the bottom of the hill, who had retreated back into the small structure.

UPDATE PROFILE: HANK

“He seemed nice,” I commented lightly, attempting to lighten the mood. Hank scoffed quietly, but otherwise didn’t respond. It was very unlike him. I would have thought he’d take my comment and run with it, ranting about the man at the very least. He didn’t. He was very quiet now as we walked up the path. His unease was palpable.

We had to stop a few times for Hank to get his breath back, but we did eventually make it to the top. Being ahead of him, I crested the hilltop first, looking out over the landfill.

I froze, my eyes widening and my artificial breathing stuttering for a moment as my central processor was suddenly overloaded and assaulted with information.

I’d had an idea of what to expect. With a government recall, there were only so many places discarded androids could end up. I’d expected a few hundred to be here.

There weren’t.

There were _thousands_.

Thousands of bodies, maybe tens of thousands, absent of synthetic skin and piled on top of each other, piles reaching out into the distance literally as far as I could see. Some were completely intact, others had limbs missing, heads missing, parts ripped out, exposed wiring, gunshot wounds. There were rivers of thirium moving sluggishly through the dirt, pooling in low areas and mixing with the slush from the recent snowfall.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 43%

STRESS LEVEL: 67%

UPDATE PROFILE: DETROIT LANDFILL AND RECYCLING CENTER

-MULTIPLE FILES CREATED

UPDATE PROFILE: ANDROID REVOLUTION

-MULTIPLE FILES CREATED

UPDATE PROFILE: DEVIANTS

UPDATE PROFILE: DETROIT

UPDATE PROFILE

UPDATE PROFILE

UPDATE

UPDATE

UPDATE

“Jesus _Christ_ … Connor? You alright?”

I blinked several times, fighting my way out of the onslaught of information and turning my head to look at Hank. His face was startlingly pale as he looked away from the landfill to study me with concern.

“I…”

Was I alright?

RUN SYSTEMS CHECK

SCANNING…

SCANNING…

ALL SYSTEMS OPERATIONAL

STRESS LEVEL: 67%

“I’m okay,” I said, watching Hank as carefully as he was watching me, “Are you?”

He looked back out over the sea of androids, not answering. He clearly wasn’t. He was shocked, sad, horrified, and a plethora of other negative emotions I couldn’t begin to decipher. I followed his gaze.

“Were they all deviants?”

“No,” Hank replied quietly. “No, most of them weren’t.”

“You told me androids were still working for humans,” I said, frowning. “In warehouses, or other such places. You made it sound like they were around, just not allowed outside. Was that a lie?”

“You’d just gotten back. I was pissed off, but I couldn’t just tell you your kind was in the process of being exterminated. I’m not that big of an ass.”

UPDATE PROFILE: HANK

We were quiet for some time as I struggled to process and sort through new information and as Hank looked out over the nightmarish scene.

“You get why they’re scared now?” Hank questioned after several minutes. “This is where they’re all gonna end up if you get ‘em. They’ll be taken to CyberLife, then sent right back here. In pieces. Abandoned. Just chucked out like trash, it’s… fuck, it just makes me sick just thinkin’ about it.”

The sound of him moving pulled my attention away from the mass grave, and I turned my head to watch Hank start to retreat back down the hill. I followed, looking back over my shoulder a final time. I could understand why he wanted me to see. It was very important information, and did provide an enormous amount of insight into why the deviants were so terrified of capture. The concept of being destroyed and knowing your physical unit was going to be left in a place like that was incredibly unpleasant. I certainly hoped I would never end up there.

We made our way down the hill and back to the car, thankfully unbothered by the aggressive man in the shack as we returned. It took Hank several moments to regroup and recover from the excursion, but he eventually turned on the car and started the drive back into the city.

“Why did you want to see that place, Lieutenant?” I asked after a little while.

“They showed it on the news, while I was in the hospital,” Hank replied quietly. He shrugged slightly. “Needed to see it for myself. And it was pretty obvious after the whole thing with Chris earlier that you needed to see it, too.”

“You understand,” I said after a moment, a bit hesitantly, “That showing me a junkyard isn’t going to change my mission or my drive to accomplish that mission, correct? They’re still defective machines that must be stopped. This doesn’t change anything.”

“Yeah,” Hank sighed quietly. “I know. I wasn’t expecting anything different.”

Before I could say anything further he reached out and turned on his music, drowning out the world and smothering the sound of his thoughts. I watched him for a moment before turning and watching the city go by.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 44%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof.


	10. Retrieval

Hank’s very clear desire to not think meant that I did not receive any new information from him on the drive back from the junkyard. That was fine. The experience had provided me with more information than I currently knew what to do with. Taking the time to process and sort it out was very much needed.

I did pay attention to the city again as we drove through it. Hank had informed me that many humans attempted to evacuate the city, fleeing to escape the war that North vowed to wage on humankind. Now that androids were no longer around to be a threat, citizens were slowly but surely coming back. Only now were signs of life beginning to truly return to the city. Each day, more and more people walked outside and engaged in their daily routines. They did the shopping in stores that had always been run exclusively by humans. They spoke with neighbors, caught up on the latest news.

It was fascinating to get these short glimpses of interaction; to observe the almost desperate need to return to old habits. I concluded that humans did not do well with change. They needed consistency, patterns, and a set way to go through their normal, everyday lives. While normalcy was still a long ways off, they certainly seemed to be trying their hardest.

The streets were void of androids. That was expected. I knew where they were now.

It hadn’t been entirely unpredictable that Hank flew past the street he needed to turn down to return to the precinct, and I didn’t bother trying to convince him to return. It had been a busy day, and resting was undoubtedly what he was very much looking forward to. Perhaps I could convince him to wake early so we could fill out the necessary reports for Chris’ arrest first thing in the morning.

PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 35%

Not the worst odds.

We eventually pulled into Hank’s driveway and made our way up to the house. I did voice my suggestion. Hank’s sharp bark of a laugh did not seem to be a positive response. I made a note to try again later.

Hank entered the house first, unlocking the door and sighing with relief at the warmth and shelter. I followed. And I frowned.

“Where’s Sumo?”

“That anxious to see him?” Hank questioned, looking over his shoulder as he shrugged off his coat. 

“Over the past three days, he’s made an effort to knock me down each time I’ve attempted to enter the residence,” I explained, the break in pattern causing my system slight unease. “Why isn’t he now?”

“Hell, I dunno. Probably sleeping somewhere, the lazy mutt,” Hank dismissed with a small shrug as he went further into the house. I watched him for a moment before looking around the living room, scanning the environment for clues as to where Sumo could be and why he hadn’t greeted me the way he normally did.

The room was exactly the way I’d left it that morning. Hank had more or less declared that the living room was now the guest room. I’d informed him I could stay at a CyberLife facility at night and meet him at the DPD in the mornings, but he wouldn’t have it. He hadn’t ordered me to stay, but I could tell he’d thought about it. He very much did not want me returning to CyberLife. I now understood why, at least a little bit.

UPDATE PROFILE: SUMO

STATUS: MISSING

EVIDENCE: HANK’S HOME

-SOFA UNTOUCHED

The blanket was folded to perfection on the sofa beside the soft pillow I’d been provided for when I entered sleep mode. That was very odd. Sumo enjoyed climbing up on the sofa when Hank was not home to tell him ‘no’.

I moved into the kitchen where Hank was looking in the fridge and sighing again, this time with a frustrated connotation, most likely due to the lack of food available. I looked towards the wall.

EVIDENCE: HANK’S HOME

-SUMO’S FOOD BOWL LEVEL: 63%

I had filled Sumo’s food bowl just before we’d left. Over the past few days, the bowl had always been empty when we returned from the station.

“Lieutenant?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think Sumo’s here.”

Hank straightened up and looked over, studying me for a moment before his eyes flickered down toward the partially filled food bowl on the floor. His eyes narrowed at the sight.

“Sumo?” he called, closing the door to the refrigerator and starting to move through the house, searching for his pet. In a matter of minutes, he went from relatively calm and slightly inconvenienced to incredibly concerned and bordering furious.

“Where the _fuck_ is my dog?” he snapped as he pushed past me to reach the back door, unlocking it and throwing it open.

“ _Sumo!”_ he shouted into the late afternoon air. Silence replied.

“How the hell did he get out? I locked the door. I unlocked the door when we came in, right? Just now?”

“Correct.”

Hank ran a slightly frantic hand through his hair, taking a second to breathe before declaring, “We gotta go out and look. It’ll be dark soon, we gotta go now.”

He gave me a quick look before making his way back to his bedroom as fast as he could, calling over his shoulder, “Take your-… You should take your jacket off.”

While I appreciated Hank making the effort to not give me an order even while under stress, I did choose to take advantage and did not remove my uniform.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“I would prefer to-“

“Now is not a good time to argue with me, Connor,” Hank called from the bedroom, emerging a moment later with a wad of grey fabric in his arms. “You can’t wear that out here. In the precinct, in the car, I don’t give a fuck, but you walkin’ around in public wearin’ that is only gonna bring us trouble, you get me?”

He made a good point. The man at the junkyard had been prepared to shoot me on sight. Appearing human would substantially lower the odds of an altercation.

I took my jacket off and draped it carefully over the back of one of the kitchen chairs before taking the clothing from Hank and pulling it on over my head. The old Detroit Police Academy sweatshirt was too large for him, which meant it was also too large for me. The sleeves slipping down over my hands were going to be a constant inconvenience. It was also quite wrinkled and smelled faintly of whiskey. It needed a turn in the washing machine, to be sure.

I looked up from examining my new outerwear just in time to catch a dark grey stocking cap Hank had tossed in my direction. “Put that on too, cover your light-bright,” he instructed gruffly, and I quickly obeyed before jogging to catch up to him as he left through the front door, swinging his coat back on over his shoulders.

“Has Sumo ever gotten out before?” I asked as I caught up, running my hand over the side of my head and making certain my LED was covered.

“Couple years ago,” Hank replied as he studied the ground, “Even then he didn’t get far. Dumb dog’s getting’ up there in years, seriously doubt he’d have gone too far from food. Here, he went this way.”

Hank led the way, following a path Sumo had made through the snow in the front yard. I stayed back for a brief second, looking back towards the front door and the walkway leading up to it.

UPDATE PROFILE: SUMO

STATUS: SEARCHING

EVIDENCE: FRONT WALKWAY

-3 UNIQUE SHOE TREADS

IDENTIFY PRINTS

PROCESSING…

MALE, SIZE 11, CASUALWEAR

MALE, SIZE 10.5, CYBERLIFE STANDARD ISSUE – RK800 MODEL

FEMALE, SIZE 7.5, ATHLETIC

“Connor!”

“Coming, Lieutenant,” I called back, studying the prints a moment longer before turning back and jogging to Hank’s side.

We were able to follow Sumo’s path fairly easily down the street, and I reconstructed the scene in my head. The dog had been very curious, moving in zigzagging patterns across the neighbor’s yards and along the sidewalk as he investigated the trees and fences he encountered. The size 7.5 female prints showed up on occasion, moving in the same direction as Sumo and at one point encountering the dog’s paw prints. They stood there for a short while before continuing on.

Inevitably the path stopped, reaching sidewalks and streets that had been cleared of snow at some point after Sumo had gotten out.

“Sumo!” Hank called, listening for a response. When he didn’t receive one, he called several more times, facing different directions as he did so in the hopes that the dog would hear. While he did that, I scanned the environment. No footprints or paw prints, but there was an odd substance towards the bottom of a streetlamp on the opposite side of the road. I crossed, dropping to a knee to investigate. I intentionally placed myself in such a way that Lieutenant Anderson could not see me touch the strange mixture lightly and place two fingers briefly on my tongue to analyze.

UPDATE PROFILE: SUMO

STATUS: SEARCHING

EVIDENCE: LAMPPOST SAMPLE

ANALYZING…

2 SUBSTANCES IDENTIFIED

SUBSTANCE 1: SALIVA, SAINT BERNARD

-DNA MATCH: “SUMO”

SUBSTANCE 2: FOOD MIXTURE

-PEANUTS, SUGAR, MOLASSES, VEGETABLES OILS, SALT

I pulled my hand back from my mouth and studied the substance on my fingers before wiping it off on the ground and standing.

UPDATE PROFILE: SUMO

STATUS: SEARCHING

EVIDENCE: LAMPPOST SAMPLE

-SUMO WAS LURED WITH TREATS

I looked down the street, spotting another lamppost hosting Sumo’s DNA a small distance away.

“He went this way, Lieutenant.”

“How the hell d’you know that?” Hank questioned as he crossed the street to join me. I glanced back at him. Telling him I’d analyzed Sumo’s saliva didn’t seem like a response that would contribute to lowering his blood pressure.

“Just a guess.”

“Bullshit,” Hank began to call me out, but changed his mind in favor of continuing the search. “Which way?”

“This way.”

I led him down the street, examining the road and various landmarks and objects for further clues and noting places where the evidence reappeared. The trail took us away from Hank’s small neighborhood and into a slightly more urban location, presumably abandoned brick buildings looming overhead.

“I don’t know where he went from here-“

“Sumo!”

A resounding woof echoed off the buildings nearby, and Hank started quickly in the direction it had come from, calling for him again and again. I followed.

UPDATE PROFILE: SUMO

STATUS: FOUND

“Oh, thank Christ. There you are, stupid dog,” Hank exclaimed, relief laced into each word as we rounded the street corner. Sumo eagerly stood from where he’d been lying on the sidewalk, a thin cable attached to his collar and tied around a streetlight. Whoever left him there had not been entirely cruel about it. There was enough slack in the cable for the dog to move around, but not enough for him to step into the street. An empty peanut butter jar lay abandoned in the gutter.

“How the hell’d you get out here, huh? What happened?” Hank murmured down at his companion as he brushed some snow off his fur. Sumo didn’t seem incredibly fazed by his experience. Outside of being left in the cold (which, being a Saint Bernard, hardly bothered him), he didn’t appear to have been mistreated at any point.

I looked around the area as Hank untied Sumo, turning my head toward a nearby alleyway as a quick analysis picked up another result for the mixture of Sumo’s saliva and peanut butter. My brow furrowed slightly before Hank’s voice caught my attention.

“What the fuck?”

I looked back at Hank, watching as he opened up a folded piece of paper that had been wedged beneath Sumo’s collar. He read it a few times before his eyes narrowed dangerously, and he thrust his hand in my direction for me to read the note.

I reached out and took the slightly soggy paper from him.

UPDATE PROFILE: PAPER NOTE

FONT: CYBERLIFE SANS, BLACK INK

“HELLO LIEUTENANT ANDERSON”

There were no other clues or distinguishing marks on the paper, nothing else for me to determine where the message had come from or who had written it.

“I take it you didn’t write that,” Hank said when I had no answer for him. It was obvious he was attempting to be calm. He was failing terribly.

“No, I didn’t,” I answered, turning back to look toward the alley. I hesitated a second before wandering off, ignoring Hank asking irritably where I was going. My eyes narrowed in a manner very similar to his as I approached yet another piece of evidence, and I crouched down to examine it and the slight smearing of peanut butter on its surface.

UPDATE PROFILE: SPRAY CAN

-COLOR: YELLOW

-EVIDENCE MATCH: DEVIANT ACTIVITIES

-DNA MATCH: “SUMO”

-FOOD MIXTURE MATCH: PEANUT BUTTER

-NO FINGERPRINTS

I stood, spray can in hand as I made my way further into the alleyway, searching intently for any tags or graffiti that had been left by whomever had taken Sumo from Hank’s house. This had clearly been deliberate. The path leading to Sumo was obvious, and the amount of evidence left around was careless to a planned extent. They’d wanted me to follow this, to find Sumo, to see whatever they were leading me to see…

I turned the corner and stopped, looking up at the dead end in front of me. Hank followed shortly after, rounding the corner with Sumo at his side. 

“Oh, what the _fuck_ ,” Hank breathed, following my gaze up to the brick wall.

UPDATE PROFILE: DEVIANT GRAFFITI

-YELLOW SPRAY PAINT

-CYBERLIFE SANS

-“HAPPY HUNTING, CONNOR.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Just as a casual heads up, things may start to get just a little bit darker from here on out, so here's an early warning for violence, depictions of violence, references to suicidal thoughts (Whaddup Hank), alcoholism (Oh hey, Hank again), near death experiences (Hank needs a hug), and other such things. Shouldn't be anything outside the scope of the game, but I just wanted to make sure you all were aware. Last thing I want is for a reading experience to become less than enjoyable for anybody. :)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! And major thank-yous to my regular readers and commenters. I see you out there! :) 
> 
> Hope everyone has a good day!


	11. Revenge

“I shouldn’t stay here.”

Hank looked over at me as I spoke, his expression puzzled and disapproving as he removed his coat. Our walk back to the house from the search for Sumo had been uneventful, outside of some very colorful language from Hank regarding privacy, security, and the need for better locks on the doors. The comments in turn had prompted my decision and statement.

“They know that I’m staying here. This was clearly a threat, and I don’t want to risk you or Sumo being hurt should the deviants decide to act violently agai-“

“Connor,” Hank interrupted, shaking his head, “No.”

I frowned.

“No?”

“No.”

“Lieutenant, I don’t think you understand-"

“Oh, I understand,” Hank disagreed as he kicked off his shoes and made his way to the kitchen. Sumo went happily alongside him, making a beeline for his food dish and eagerly beginning to wolf down his abandoned meal. “I understand some rogue androids know where I live, that they can break into my house at any fuckin’ moment. I understand they’re terrified of you and probably want you to keep away. I understand them threatening us.”

“Then why would you not want me to go?” I asked, my brow furrowing heavily with confusion.

Hank looked over at me for a moment before giving an unhelpful shrug and burying his head in the refrigerator to resume his search for something edible.

“Sumo’s a shitty guard dog. You’ll do fine.”

I couldn’t quite tell if it was a joke or not. It didn’t matter. Discussing next steps was far more important than wasting time analyzing what was most likely a deflective comment.

“I strongly suspect Sumo was taken by a female android,” I informed Hank as I entered the kitchen, taking the stocking cap off my head and using my reflection in the kitchen window to fix my hair, taming it back to order. A small line of text in the corner of my vision informed me that the window was newly purchased and recently installed. Irrelevant.

“What makes you say that?”

“There were footprints outside. Female, shoe size seven and a half.” I looked over my shoulder in Hank’s direction. “I’m assuming you don’t have many visitors matching that description.”

A solid _THUD_ echoed in the small room, and Hank swore quietly as he stepped back from the fridge and rubbed the back of his skull where he’d impacted the underside of the freezer door due to attempting to stand too quickly. He stared at me incredulously.

“Was that a fucking joke?”

“I suspect it wasn’t a fact,” I replied with an innocent shrug.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 46%

Hank stared at me for a moment longer before scoffing and shaking his head, looking back into the refrigerator. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly.

“Asshole. You reckon it was North?”

“It could have been,” I said with a nod, looking back to the window and combing my fingers through my hair a final time before turning around to give Lieutenant Anderson my full attention. “But it could have been any other deviant just as well.”

“Given North’s drive for revenge, though,” Hank added, finally locating a long forgotten jar of olives in the back of the fridge and withdrawing to the kitchen table, “And given your reputation with her… Sure seems like a pretty solid guess.”

UPDATE PROFILE: NORTH

“My reputation with her?” I repeated questioningly, taking a seat across from Hank.

“Yeah,” he said as he munched on his pitiful excuse for a meal, “I mean, I seriously doubt you’re at the top of her best-friend list. If I were her, I’d be tryin’ to push you as far away as I could. Wouldn’t want the goddamn ‘Hunter’ stickin’ his nose into my business.”

“This was a warning,” I followed along, slowly nodding my agreement. “She’s warning me to stay away.”

“Us,” Hank corrected, wiping his fingers off on his jeans before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the small note that had been wedged under Sumo’s collar, tossing it onto the table. “She called me out, too. She knows we work together. She was warning us to stay the fuck out of her way, or someone is gonna get hurt.”

I studied Hank for a few seconds as he began attempting to fish more olives out of the jar. Out of the two of us, Hank was most susceptible to being harmed if North decided he was in her way. I was stronger than him, I was faster, and I didn’t feel pain. He did. And his being human wouldn’t stop her. She’d killed humans before.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Not as much as it probably should,” Hank replied, keeping his focus entirely on the jar in his hand.

UPDATE PROFILE: HANK

 

* * *

 

I did not enter sleep mode that night, nor the night after. While I’d determined Hank’s ‘guard dog’ statement had been an attempt at a joke, it wasn’t exactly a bad idea. I remained awake and alert, diligently listening and watching for anything out of the ordinary both inside and outside of Hank’s home. The warning that popped into place as the sun began to rise was mostly ignored.

POWER: 57%

DISTRIBUTE POWER EVENLY ACROSS ALL SYSTEMS?

DISTRIBUTING….

WARNING: LOW POWER WILL RESULT IN SLOW PROCESSING SPEEDS

 

* * *

 

Gavin’s return to the precinct was far quieter than anticipated. His presence was hardly noticed, and he kept to himself the entire morning, working diligently to catch up on the work he’d missed and pushing himself to get back ahead of his paperwork. While his attitude most days was a hindrance to the people around him, it was clear to see why he was a part of the team. His drive to succeed was undeniable, and it undoubtedly made him a very valuable asset. Perhaps even a good detective.

The only breaks he took were to glance over toward my desk, as though making certain I was still there. If I noticed him looking, he’d bare his teeth and turn immediately back to his work.

That afternoon, following an extensive amount of paperwork and reports dealing with Deviant-Chris’ arrest, Hank made the comment that his desk was starting to stink. It was very quickly determined that, due to the lack of androids working at the station, no janitorial staff had been around to empty the garbage beneath his desk. I volunteered to dispose of it, and Hank volunteered me to dispose of Officer Miller’s garbage as well. I didn’t mind. Officer Miller was the only other person besides Hank who would speak to me. Even if his words were hesitant and still slightly distrusting of me, there was something to be said for the effort he made. I appreciated it.

I carried the small garbage bags out to the back of the station, stepping outside into the brisk air and going directly for the dumpster against the back wall of the small alleyway, tossing the stinking bags into the container. I couldn’t help but wonder what the solution was going to be when it came to mundane tasks such as this. Would CyberLife provide new androids, sans deviancy? Or would humans take up the jobs that were originally theirs? While I didn’t mind taking out the trash, it wasn’t exactly part of my mission-

The door to the alley swung open behind me.

“It’s bullshit, all of it. Swear to Christ, it’s gotta be a plot or somethin’.“

VOCAL RECOGNITION: GAVIN REED

“Didn’t think you were one for conspiracy theories.”

VOCAL RECOGNITION: TINA CHEN

“Not a conspiracy theorist, I’m just sayin’ Fowler's had it in for me ever si- Oh, for _fuck_ …”

I turned around, watching as Gavin flapped a hand in my direction, his face quickly morphing from slight distress to downright fury.

“You see? I can’t catch a fuckin’ break, it’s fuckin’ everywhere!”

“Hello, Detective Reed. It’s good to see you again,” I greeted, immediately trying to defuse and calm the situation before it could even begin. “I was actually hoping to speak with you. Is now a bad time?"

Gavin worked his jaw for a moment as he studied me, his hand curling in and out of a fist at his side.

POTENTIAL HOSTILITY DETECTED

“Chen, go back inside.”

Officer Chen looked offended and the slightest bit concerned.

“What the hell are you-?”

“I said _go the fuck inside_ ,” Gavin growled, jerking his head toward the door without taking his eyes off me. Officer Chen hesitated for a moment before swearing quietly under her breath and retreating back into the building. The sound of the door shutting echoed in the small space. After a moment, when it became clear Gavin was not going to start the conversation, I spoke.

"First and foremost, I'd like to apologize for whatever I may have done in the past to upset you."

Gavin didn't reply, quickly looking up and down the alleyway and seeming to ignore me for the moment. I kept talking all the same.

“I understand you assisted Lieutenant Anderson with retrieving me the other day,” I continued, tilting my head slightly. “I’d like you to know that I appreciate your help. It was an unfortunate situation, and it should not happen again.”

Gavin’s silence was breaking pattern, and my central processor was not pleased. The man was typically a chatterbox, from what I could recall, and I sincerely doubted his three-day suspension would have led to better behavior.

After a moment, Gavin stepped away from the door and moved closer, keeping his hands down at his sides.

“You’re welcome.”

That was unexpected. I blinked, tilting my head once again as I ran through possible reasons for his startlingly polite response. His body language was casual, relaxed, heavily contradicting the tension he held just moments ago. I watched carefully as he approached, and he eventually held out a hand. A handshake? Was he attempting to form a truce? That would be a surprisingly large but very much needed step in the proper direction…

“And thank _you_ , Connor.”

It took me a moment to reach out and take his hand, and I looked at him curiously.

“For what?”

He smiled, baring his teeth.

“For this.”

The smile devolved into a furious snarl, and he suddenly slammed his weight into me and forced me back against the wall. My processors were not operating at optimal levels, and as a result his sudden attack caught me completely off guard. I wasn’t able to reach out with my free hand and stop his from moving lightning-fast to his belt and slamming the taser into my stomach and pulling the trigger.

IMPACT: ABDOM3N

L3E5L 0N$ %DAM!AG3

Instantly the world vanished behind a wall of static, my auditory processors crackling in protest and my head snapping back as my body seized and warnings struggled to make themselves known…

W7#R&ING!

CE@NT5%AL PR0C35S*!R O8E/L9AD

B$OC0MP&NT #32^%?

OV5ER HE@OT9NG?#

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do- I couldn’t… There was nothing and there was everything at once, the taser had directly targeted my central processor and it was sending every single sensor I had into a frenzy. There was heat and cold and soft and hard and loud and quiet and bright and dark and wet and dry and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and-

It suddenly stopped and I crumpled to the ground, gasping as my artificial breathing kicked in to try and act as a secondary cooling mechanism. Struggling to get my optical systems back online was pointless as Gavin grabbed at my jacket and tossed me on my stomach, his foot slamming down on my back and the taser soon following.

W4#R&NING!

CE?NT5%AL PR0C35S^!R O;ERL9AD

B$OC0MP&NT #32^%?

OV3ER HE!OT9NG?#!

W@ARN9NG!

C^NT9N#ED EX1O5U4RE W1LL R5ES7L?T

IN SH7UTD0#N

A small cry of protest fought its way through my vocal box. It didn’t dissuade Gavin in the slightest.

“Fuckin’ baby,” I could barely make out him saying past the screeching of static in my ears, “It’s just a fuckin’ taser, we’ve all been hit with one.”

This was different. He couldn’t begin to understand what this felt like, if I were human every single nerve ending would be active, every single synapse firing at a rate too fast, everything overwhelming and there was too much at once and it…

_It hurt._

S@F5TWA#E INS?TBI+ITY: 5#%

The taser was suddenly gone again, as was Gavin’s foot and I acted as quickly as I could, struggling to make my limbs work in my favor and scrambling to crawl toward the door to the precinct, blinking quickly as my vision slowly returned.

“Where you think you’re goin’?” Gavin sneered above me, his hands wrapping around my ankles. I dug my fingers into the ground, pulling up lines of asphalt as he dragged me back away from the door. I couldn’t take much more of the taser, I was overheating and would shut down if he continued. Desperate, I twisted my body around as best I could, ripping my legs from his grasp and curling up tight to make myself as small a target as possible, looking up and finally making eye contact with the furious human crouching over me, grabbing a handful of my jacket and preparing to slam the taser into me again.

_“Don’t!”_

Gavin suddenly stopped, his eyes widening slightly. I wasn’t sure why. The moment drew on for several seconds, both of us frozen in place as we waited to see what the other would do. Eventually it was Gavin who moved, his fist flying faster than my processors could handle.

IMPACT: NOSE

LEVEL ONE DAMAGE

THIRIUM LEAK DETECTED

He suddenly let go of my jacket and stood, stepping over me to stalk to the door and reenter the building as though nothing had happened. I stayed on the ground for several minutes, breathing heavily to try and cool myself down, struggling to sort through error messages and diagnosing injuries and biocomponent issues. There didn’t appear to be any permanent damage. Eventually I managed to push myself up to sitting, and then to standing. I brushed off my jacket and straightened my tie before going back into the station.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell?”

Hank’s unhappy and concerned exclamation upon my return was expected. The thirium leak from my nose had dribbled blue splotches onto my shirt, and I could feel the liquid beneath my nose and on my chin.

“Connor, what the hell happened? Are you alright?"

“I’m fine, Lieutenant,” I informed him in a very straightforward manner. “It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Bullshit, nothing to be concerned about. Who-?”

Hank answered his own question, his head snapping over to catch Gavin watching our interaction. The detective quickly looked away, returning to his self-assigned task of destroying several paperclips. Hank moved to step past me. I did not let him, catching his arm and holding tight.

“Lieutenant.”

The man looked back at me, glancing at my hand on his arm before looking up to try and read my expression. I gave a small shake of my head.

“Don’t.”

Hank clearly wanted to argue, but the words died in his throat as I shook my head again. After a small moment, Hank ripped his arm away from my hand and returned to his desk.

I glanced over at Gavin, who was watching us again. I couldn’t quite figure out the expression on his face when he accidentally made eye contact with me once more. He wasn’t satisfied with himself like I would have expected. He wasn’t happy. He seemed upset, but upset wasn’t the right word… Before I could figure it out, he scowled and turned his back toward me as best he could. I stood there a moment longer before returning to my desk, sitting down and returning to work.

UPDATE PROFILE: GAVIN REED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an idea of what's going through Gavin's head at the end of this chapter, check out "Human Eyes", which I posted here on AO3 the other day. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323307 
> 
> :)


	12. Rectify

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Lieutenant,” I insisted for a fourth time, looking over at Hank and creating an expression of impatience and exasperation in the hopes that it would dissuade him from asking again. “No critical damage, nothing permanent, nothing I can’t recover from. I’m fine.”

In the hour that had passed since Gavin’s attack, Hank had been completely unproductive. His attention moved back and forth between me, Gavin, Captain Fowler’s office, and would occasionally linger on his terminal before he’d look over at Gavin again. The younger detective never looked up, remaining hunched over his desk and seemingly drowning himself in his work to keep himself occupied.

It was obvious that Hank was itching to go straight over to Detective Reed’s desk and start swinging his fists. He’d even gone so far as to offer.

“What all did he do, anyway? I’ll do it all to him, give ‘im a taste of his own medicine.”

“You shouldn’t confront him. The chances of you besting Detective Reed in hand-to-hand combat at this point in time are incredibly slim-”

“I'm not that frail, asshole,” Hank countered, looking torn between being amused and irritated. Irritation eventually won out. “I’d hand his ass to him on a goddamn plate. My six foot two over his five foot three or whatever the hell he is-“

“Five foot nine.”

“Whatever. Point is, I’d kick his ass.”

“Debatable. Regardless,” I continued before Hank could protest, turning back to my work as I spoke, “Your disciplinary folder doesn’t need any more additions. Especially not on my account.”

“It wouldn’t be because of you, it’d be because I finally snapped and gave that prick what he’s had coming to him for a long while now,” Hank replied with a shake of his head, giving Reed another glance before looking back to me. “You never answered my question, by the way. What did he do? I find it hard to believe he’d just one-punch you in the snout and call it a day, considering all the shit between you two.”

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

I hesitated, debating over whether or not to tell Hank the truth. A quick crunching of numbers clearly showed that informing him of Gavin’s use of the taser would only lead to further stress and irritation, and dramatically increased the odds that Hank would take it upon himself to retaliate. Hank getting into trouble for something my previous self had done was not going to be beneficial for anyone.

“Why don’t you wanna tell me?”

I glanced over at Hank, blinking for a moment as I processed the question and formulated a new response. He didn’t seem angry. He seemed more concerned than anything else.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Lieutenant. It’s just that it’s not pertinent to our investigation. Telling you all that happened would only distract you from more important things.”

“This is important.”

“No, catching North is important,“ I corrected with a shake of my head. “Locating the deviants with the stolen vehicle, that’s important. What Detective Reed may or may not have done is irrelevant, and what happened to me is not important.”

Hank mulled that over for a moment. Eventually he gave a small shrug.

“I think it’s important.”

“Anderson! My office,” Captain Fowler’s voice boomed before I could argue, “And bring the android with you.”

Hank swore in a grumble under his breath as he rolled his eyes and stood. I quickly followed suit, standing and waiting for Hank to take the lead. The man frowned slightly as he gave me a quick lookover.

“That stuff not evaporated yet?”

“It should be invisible to you within the next two hours,” I answered, glancing down at my thirium-stained shirt. The stains were still a rather vibrant blue, despite my attempts to lessen their appearance using several tissues Hank had literally thrown in my direction. The skin beneath my nose and on my chin was still slightly stained as well, though not as obviously apparent.

“You’d think they would’ve made thirium easier to clean,” Hank commented as we started toward Captain Fowler’s office.

“Human blood stains just as easily.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, though, they shoulda said ‘You know what? Just in case, let’s make this disappear with water. Make it easier to clean than human blood. Just in case’.”

“I imagine Elijah Kamski had more pressing things on his mind than making thirium soluble.”

“Yeah, maybe. God, I hate that guy…”

We entered Captain Fowler’s office, Hank striding forward to sit in the chair across from Fowler’s desk as I closed the door behind us and stood off to the side, clasping my hands behind my back to observe. Almost immediately, however, Captain Fowler addressed me.

“What the hell is all that on your shirt?”

“It’s blue blood, Captain,” I answered formally. “I sustained a small injury earlier today. It’s nothing to be worried about.”

“How’d that happen?”

Before I could respond, Hank very pointedly cleared his throat and nodded toward the glass wall of the office. Captain Fowler and I both followed his gaze and looked out in time to see Gavin’s head snap back down to his work, blinking frequently and breathing slightly faster than necessary.

Interesting. Gavin was anxious.

UPDATE PROFILE: GAVIN REED

“What did you do to him?”

“I’m sorry?” I questioned, looking back at Captain Fowler with a furrowed brow as Hank angrily declared, “What the fuck, Jeffrey?”

“Don’t ‘what the fuck’ me, Hank,” Fowler snapped right back, holding up his hands. “I’m going off of what I know, and what I know is that not three weeks ago your android attacked Reed and got him sent to the hospital-”

UPDATE PROFILE: GAVIN REED

UPDATE PROFILE: PREVIOUS CONNOR

“-so excuse me for not giving him the benefit of the doubt!”

“Reed’s a fucking hothead and you know it, he’s had it out for Connor since day one!”

“Connor, tell me what happened. That’s an order.”

ORDER: TELL CAPTAIN FOWLER WHAT HAPPENED

“For fuck’s sake, just ‘cause you can order him doesn’ mean-“

“I took out the garbage from Lieutenant Anderson and Officer Miller’s desks,” I answered, attempting to ignore Hank’s irritated grumbles followed by him turning around in his chair and watching me speak. “While back behind the precinct, Detective Reed stepped outside. I attempted to converse and apologize for whatever it was I had done to him. He proceeded to use his taser on me several times before hitting me in the face and returning inside. The blue blood is the result of a thirium leak, similar to a nosebleed in humans.”

Captain Fowler glanced out the window toward Detective Reed’s desk again, watching the man poke haphazardly at his keyboard. Hank continued to watch me, looking positively furious now that he knew the entirety of what had occurred. I wasn’t sure why. As I’d told him multiple times, I was perfectly fine…

“I see.”

“You _see_?” Hank exclaimed, whirling around in his chair to face Captain Fowler, “That’s all you’ve got to say, ‘ _you see_ ’? He _tased_ him-!”

“I’m aware of what Connor claimed he did, Lieuten-“

“Claimed, the hell do you mean _claimed_ , he’s got the blood on his goddamn shirt-!”

“I’m not blind, Hank!” Fowler shouted, leaning forward in his chair, “Nor am I deaf! I heard what Connor said, I see the blue blood on his shirt, and I also see that Reed looks like he’s about to piss himself just seeing us talking together, so obviously something went down. But I’m not about to go judging a man who hasn’t had a chance to say his side of things. Now that that's out of the way, can we please get to what we’re _supposed_ to be talking about?”

Hank scowled, eventually slouching back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest.

The rest of the meeting was fairly straightforward, though not exactly pleasant. CyberLife had contacted Captain Fowler and informed him that they were displeased with the lack of progress Hank and I were making in our investigation with regards to capturing and turning over deviant androids. Hank had attempted to argue that the case had only been active for a week, to which Captain Fowler replied that he was just a messenger and did not have much sway at all when it came to CyberLife’s demands. He… encouraged… Hank to work harder, which prompted a rather vicious back and forth between the two men that had eventually resulted in Hank storming out of the office.

I moved to follow, but paused.

“Captain Fowler?”

“What?” the man snapped, not looking up from his terminal as I addressed him.

“I’d like to request that no disciplinary action be taken against Detective Reed for what occurred today.”

Fowler’s forehead wrinkled, and after a moment he looked over at me, expression puzzled but intrigued underneath a layer of suspicion.

“And why’s that?”

“I believe Detective Reed simply needed to get something… out of his system. I understand I’ve hurt him in the past, and I also contributed to his recent suspension. That was why he confronted me. He was angry.”

“Being angry doesn’t justify swinging your fists around,” Fowler pointed out.

“I don’t know what being angry would or wouldn’t justify,” I replied, glancing out toward Gavin’s desk. The man had given up on pretending to work and had his head in his hands. I didn’t doubt he was fearing disciplinary action, perhaps even considering the possibility of losing his job. “But I know I attacked him, and he attacked me in response. That seems… Enough.”

“You wanna call it square.”

I frowned, looking back at Captain Fowler.

“I don’t understand what shapes have to do with-“

“Even. You’re even,” he quickly clarified with a wave of his hand. “You want it to be done. You don’t want to keep up a cycle of retaliation.”

“Correct,” I said with a nod.

Captain Fowler leaned back in his chair, regarding me for a long moment before nodding towards the door.

“I’ll think about it. Get out of my office.”

ORDER: LEAVE CAPTAIN FOWLER’S OFFICE

“Have a nice day, Captain,” I stated before exiting the room and making my way back to my desk. Hank gave me a questioning look, but didn’t press. Not until several minutes later after a small _ping!_ sounded from his terminal, alerting him to a message.

“You told him to leave Reed alone?!” he exclaimed incredulously, looking over at me with a confused and surprisingly irritated expression. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“ _Reed!”_ Captain Fowler’s voice demanded from the door to his office, and I watched Gavin stand and make his way over, his hands plunged deep into his jacket pockets and his tense shoulders practically up to his ears.

I shrugged in response to Hank’s question.

“We’re square.”

“Square,” Hank repeated in a huff, following my gaze and watching Gavin and Captain Fowler enter the glass office and begin speaking. It was almost entertaining to watch the various expressions slip on and off of Detective Reed’s face, his shoulders eventually relaxing just the slightest bit. Eventually he glanced over at me, making eye contact for a split second before he scowled and shrugged, presumably saying something flippant to his superior, who promptly began to scold him harshly.

“You’re a good kid, Connor.”

I blinked, frowning slightly before looking over at Hank.

“I’m not a child, Lieutenant.”

“Whatever.”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 54%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fasten your seat belts, kids.
> 
> Many thanks to all for the kudos, comments, and subscriptions! You guys are amazing. :)


	13. Relive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised, new tags have been added.

I opened my eyes, blinking a few times before looking around.

It was firmly autumn in the garden. The sky was a deep grey, broken up by hints of orange and pink from a simulated sunset tucked away behind the clouds. A brisk breeze tossed at my hair and jacket, and several leaves skittered across the ground as the wind forced them to relocate.

FIND AMANDA

A quick scan revealed Amanda was sitting on a stone bench along the path a small distance away, holding a red parasol.

“Hello, Connor. Come sit down.”

The leaves crunched beneath my feet as I approached, and I took a careful seat beside her, folding my hands in my lap. We sat in silence for several long moments before Amanda moved, lowering her parasol and closing it before holding it out.

“Take this.”

I obeyed.

“What color would you say my parasol is, Connor?”

I looked down, turning the object over in my hands and looking at it from all sides. The color was incredibly obvious.

“It’s red,” I answered, confident.

“What if I were to tell you it was blue?”

My brow furrowed slightly, and I looked over at Amanda. She was completely sincere. I’d never known her to be anything different.

“I would tell you that’s incorrect,” I replied slowly. “It’s clearly red.”

“It’s blue, Connor,” she responded with a shake of her head. “The parasol is blue.”

“No, it isn’t,” I insisted, looking back down at my hands, “It’s-“

It was blue.

“What color is my parasol, Connor?”

It was blue. It was not red, as I’d previously stated. Hadn’t it been red before? I was certain it had been a vibrant red color, not the deep blue it was now…

“It’s… quite ironic, isn’t it?” Amanda continued when I did not offer her a verbal response. “How change is the one thing we can be certain of. Change is, itself, unchanging. Inevitable. All things change. Look away at any given moment, and when you look back…” She gestured toward the parasol.

A small wind rolled over us, silence resonating in the garden several moments.

“How do you feel your investigation is going, Connor?”

It took me a moment to decide how to respond.

“I believe it is… off to a slow start,” I confessed honestly once I’d formulated a response. “But we’re making progress. Patterns have become apparent in the behavior of the deviants who stole the SUV, and I apprehended a deviant WG700 model in the process of investigating the others. I also believe I may have obtained evidence regarding North’s involvement in various crimes committed over the past few weeks, following the kidnapping of Lieutenant Anderson’s dog.”

Amanda nodded slowly as she listened, and she was silent for a moment afterward.

“One deviant.”

The disappointment and disapproval in her tone was staggeringly strong.

“It’s only been a week, Amanda-“

“You are proving yourself be to a failure, Connor,” she immediately cut off my weak attempt at defense, her voice sharp, “Seven days and one deviant to show for it is far from promising. You are capable of more, you were created to do more, and your lack of progress is cause for immense and immediate concern.”

Her tone suddenly softened as she gave a small shake of her head. “Something _must_ change. You _must_ work harder, and you cannot let anything stand in the way of accomplishing your mission. If something does not change soon…” She left the sentence open-ended, but the threat was clear. It was fact. I would be deactivated if I didn’t make progress. It was entirely possible CyberLife wouldn’t even wait the entirety of the month they had told Hank that we had. If I did not make substantial progress soon, they might decide I wasn’t worth the effort and pull me from the case for good.

I couldn’t let that happen.

“I’ll do better,” I assured Amanda. She responded with a small nod of approval.

“I expect you to,” she replied as she reached out, taking her parasol back from me. “Is there anything else you wish to report?”

ORDER: PROVIDE CYBERLIFE WITH NECESSARY DETAILS

I quickly filtered through the information I had regarding the deviant issue. She did not need to know that I knew about Markus’ peaceful protests and self-sacrifice. She did not need to know that I watched the news and saw the protests that still crowded the streets of Detroit, both for and against the impending android extinction. She did not need to know that Hank had given me access to most of the DPD’s files. She did not need to know that I knew CyberLife was attempting to hide things from me.

“Nothing,” I answered.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 56%

Amanda studied me for a moment before giving a small nod of acceptance.

“We need to see improvement, Connor,” she reminded me as she stood, opening her red parasol and resting it over her shoulder before walking away.

 

* * *

 

The stakeout had been my idea.

It had been the most logical next step, considering the limited leads we had available. North left the spray-painted message wishing me ‘happy hunting’ following her kidnapping (“Dognapping,” Hank had insisted upon calling it) of Sumo. Considering there were no other vandalism reports in the area, if she and the other deviants continued their pattern, they would be back to commit an additional offense near that location, followed by leaving an additional message.

Hank had argued that the message she had left him on the paper and the ‘dognapping’ of Sumo filled both of those categories, but I disagreed. Androids, deviant or otherwise, were inclined to follow routines and patterns. It would have been incredibly surprising to see the clearly established pattern altered.

As a result, I suggested we monitor and observe the area in case the deviants returned. Hank begrudgingly agreed, and the following morning we took his car to the street where we found Sumo, parking a small distance away to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Hank insisted upon leaving the car running so as to utilize the heater.

The reason for his unhappy response to the concept of conducting a stakeout became very obvious, very quickly.

 

* * *

 

TIME ELAPSED: 00:02:04

“Jesus Christ, I hate stakeouts. It’s just a load of sitting around, and half the time it’s all for nothin’.”

“This won’t be for nothing. There’s a 94% chance that they will return to this area.”

“Yeah, and that six percent is gonna end up laughing in our faces.”

 

* * *

 

TIME ELAPSED: 00:17:43

“You see anything?”

“It’s only been seventeen minutes, Lieutenant.”

“Fuck.”

 

* * *

 

TIME ELAPSED: 01:49:11

“Oh my God.”

“What is it?”

“I think I’m dying of boredom.”

“I think you’re being unprofessional.”

“Slowly dying of boredom.”

“Lieutenant-“

“Death is approaching.”

“You’re being incredibly melodramatic.”

“What a lame thing to have on the report. ‘Cause of Death: Boredom’.”

“You can’t die from boredom.”

“Fuckin’ watch me.”

 

* * *

 

TIME ELAPSED: 02:34:32

“Lieutenant?”

“Mm?”

“Bouncing your leg like that is shaking the entire vehicle.”

“Hey, at least my leg is working.”

 

* * *

 

We were sat in the car for nearly six hours before Hank insisted that he had to step out and stretch his legs properly.

“Stay in the car. Just gonna walk right across the street there and back,” he informed me as he climbed out of the vehicle with a groan, closing the door behind him.

ORDER: STAY IN THE CAR

I frowned slightly at the text in my vision, but didn’t think much of it, watching Hank cross the street with his hands deep in his pockets and shoulders shrugged up to guard against the winter chill. When he made it across the street, I turned my attention back to the line of buildings up ahead, continuing to monitor the situation. A woman walked along the edge of the sidewalk with her young son, his mitten-clad hand held tight in hers as he adventured over the small mountains of snow left behind by snowplows that morning. The boy was completely engrossed in his self-assigned task, face set and determined as he approached a small gap in his miniature mountain range and prepared himself to jump. His mother watched carefully as the small gap was cleared, and I read her lips as she informed him that he was very good at jumping but needed to be careful, especially so close to the street.

I tilted my head slightly, watching with interest as the humans continued their walk.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 59%

The little boy continued his role of mountain climber, toddling slightly atop a large mound and continuing to hold his mother’s hand tightly until he reached more secure footing, at which point he tugged his hand free and continued under his own power. He did well until he reached the end of the block, and which point he hopped off the snow and eagerly ran to cross the street to the next patch of sidewalk without looking.

I felt myself flinch slightly as a vehicle attempting to exit a side street came to a very rapid stop, the driver thankfully having seen the boy in time. His mother cried out with surprise and fear as she rushed forward and bundled her child up in her arms, offering the driver an apologetic and grateful wave before continuing down the sidewalk toward where I sat in Hank’s car. The driver of the other vehicle smiled at the mother, offering her and the boy a small forgiving wave in response. He rolled a bit farther into the street to check it was clear to turn. His gaze returned to the mother and the boy, presumably to make certain the child hadn’t escaped and wasn’t going to run in front of his-

EVIDENCE MATCH: STOLEN SUV

The driver’s eyes slid from the humans down to where Hank’s car was sat. He made direct eye contact with me.

FACIAL RECOGNITION: AP700 MODEL - DEVIANT

MODEL 767 880 0241

REPORTED MISSING 11/09/2038

POSITION COMPROMISED

MISSION TASK [STAKEOUT] FAILED

“ _Shit,_ ” I hissed under my breath, watching the deviant’s expression morph to one of alarm and distress, and he slammed down on the accelerator.

I couldn’t let them get away. After the scolding from Amanda and CyberLife, I couldn’t just let them get away, not when they were right in front of me, not when they were so close.

I looked around the interior of Hank’s car, examining my limited options.

DOOR HANDLE

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 0%

Exiting the car was obviously not an option. Even if I could somehow chase down the deviants on foot, Hank’s order for me to stay in the car would see me prone on the ground in seconds.

STEERING WHEEL

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 40%

Honking the horn to get Hank’s attention would be effective in making Lieutenant Anderson aware of what was going on, but by the time he returned to the car and began to pursue, it was likely the deviants would be gone.

KEYS STILL IN IGNITION

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 87%

Oh. That would do.

Without hesitation I slid into the driver’s seat and threw the car into gear, slamming my foot down on the accelerator. The car’s engine roared in protest at the sudden action but launched away from the curb, leaving Hank in the dust.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 55%

A split-second glance in the rear view mirror revealed him running into the street after me with alarm, coming up short after a few steps and quickly pulling his phone from his pocket. With any luck, he was calling Fowler to tell him to send backup.

I returned my attention to the speeding SUV in front of me, the pedals of both vehicles practically to the floor as we raced down the street, buildings flying past at dangerously unsafe speeds. I quickly reached over my shoulder and grabbed the seat belt, putting it on. An android was just as susceptible to flying through the windshield as a human in the event of a crash.

The deviants rounded a corner and I immediately followed, the tires squealing unhappily and stuttering slightly at the occasional lack of traction due to ice on the road. The SUV wasn’t faring much better, but it shot down the street regardless, drawing the startled attention of a few humans on the sidewalk.

Warnings flashed in my vision, informing me that I was breaking several laws as the chase barreled through a red light, both of our vehicles narrowly missing other cars in the intersection. I dismissed the warnings immediately.

ACTIVATE GPS ROUTING

PREDICT ROUTE

SCANNING….

PREDICTED ROUTE: I-94

My hands tightened on the steering wheel in anticipation. Sure enough, the deviants blew through another red light to skid onto the on-ramp, racing up to the highway. I followed, gritting my teeth as I pushed Hank’s car as hard as it would go. Much to my surprise I started to gain on my target, even as they attempted to weave in and out of traffic. There was less than 0.001 seconds between their decision-making and mine. They couldn’t shake me.

A fraction of space opened up in the lane beside them and I quickly dove into it, preparing to tap the rear left side of the vehicle to spin it out.

They slammed on the brakes before contact was made and disappeared behind me, and I felt my face curl into a snarl as I grabbed the handbrake and pulled, cranking the steering wheel to the side and fishtailing the car before slamming my foot down on the pedal again and launching forward, racing against the flow of traffic to catch up with the deviants, who were now driving backwards. I caught back up quickly, nearly front-bumper to front-bumper with the SUV. I could now see through the windshield. There were four deviants inside.

There was only one my mission programming cared about.

FACIAL RECOGNITION: NORTH

**MISSION PRIORITY ONE:**

**-ELIMINATE OR INCAPACITATE NORTH**

**-RETURN NORTH TO CYBERLIFE FOR ANALYSIS AND DEACTIVATION**

North sat in the front passenger seat, her eyes locking on mine for a split second, and her eyes narrowed dangerously before she turned in her seat to speak to the deviants behind her. The AP700 driving immediately started attempting to weave through traffic again in reverse, trying to lose me. It was even less effective than last time, and I had no trouble staying right on th-

North turned back around and pointed something at me.

HOSTILITY DETECTED

FIREARM DETECTED: HANDGUN

I grunted as the bullet punched a hole through Hank’s windshield and slammed into my shoulder.

IMPACT: LEFT SHOULDER

LEVEL TWO DAMAGE – NON-CRITICAL

THIRIUM LEAK DETECTED

THIRIUM LEVEL: 99%

North fired again, the bullet pinging off the frame of the car. She didn’t aim for my head. She didn’t hit any biocomponents. She didn’t try to kill me.

Interesting.

UPDATE PROFILE: NORTH

Between the erratic backwards driving of the SUV, the fractured windshield, North firing her gun several more times, and the warnings popping up in my vision, the chase began to become slightly more difficult. With a scowl, I dismissed the warnings and placed all of my attention on North-

I never saw the second car.

Later analysis would reveal the second vehicle of deviants had come up from behind North’s SUV and turned diagonally across multiple lanes to crash into the back of Hank’s car. In the moment, I saw North’s eyes narrow, the corner of her mouth twitch upwards, and the world suddenly became a blur as the second car plowed into mine and spun it around.

As good as my reaction times were, I had no control over physics. Despite my best efforts, Hank’s car spun a full rotation before the sides of the tires caught the asphalt and the car flipped, and I braced myself as best I could as it rolled one, two, thr-

IMPACT: HEAD [LEFT SIDE]

LEV3L O%E D/?A@#

 

* * *

 

REBOOTING…

REBOOTING…

REBOOTING…

OPTICAL SYSTEMS: OFFLINE

AUDITORY SYSTEMS: OFFLINE

CENTRAL PROCESSOR: FUNCTIONING

ATTEMPT RESTORE

RESTORING…

RESTORING…

OPTICAL SYSTEMS: 85%

AUDITORY SYSTEMS: 55%

GYROSCOPE ACCURACY: 71%

RECALIBRATION REQUIRED

BEGIN RECALIBRATION

MULTIPLE THIRIUM LEAKS DETECTED

THIRIUM LEVEL: 83%

I opened my eyes, blinking slowly a few times. Static clouded my vision, but I could still make out shapes and colors. My ears were making a continuous muffled buzzing sound. I frowned for a moment before turning my head slightly and attempting to look around.

It took me a moment to process my surroundings. The car was on its roof, the assorted bits of junk Hank left lying on the floor now at rest on the ceiling beside my hands. I frowned, looking up (down?) at my arms and watching the thirium starting to puddle around my left hand, dripping from my head and my shoulder.

THIRIUM LEVEL: 82%

That was problematic. I had no doubt the seat belt currently keeping me trapped in place had saved me from becoming a smear on the highway, but at the moment it was increasing the rate at which thirium left my body by keeping me inverted.

I had been about to reach for the seat belt when I heard a very strange sound. It was loud, and rapid, and it sounded terrified and distressed-

VOCAL RECOGNITION: HANK ANDERSON

It was Hank. Hank was shouting, nearly screaming, and his voice grew louder as he ran to the car. If I was completely honest, I was glad I couldn’t hear his voice clearly. Even through the broken auditory processors, the sound of his voice in that particular moment was startlingly unpleasant, and I did not want to hear it ever again.

“Connor!” I could finally understand as Hank dropped to his knees in the broken glass beside the driver’s side window, and I watched him as he frantically looked into the car, his eyes flickering to the backseat before he put his entire attention on me. “Connor, hold on, son, just hold on, I’ll get you outta there…”

Something about Hank seemed wrong. The shaking of his hands was obvious and could be associated with adrenaline, but something about his eyes and expression in combination with the trembling and his dangerously high heart rate was… unsettling. He was incredibly upset, but ‘upset’ didn’t cover what exactly this was…. The answer was elusive. Regardless, he needed to calm down.

“I didn’t leave the car, Lieutenant,” I commented in a bit of a mumble, half testing to be certain my vocal box was operational and half to try and joke a bit, attempting to lighten the situation. He made a very strange sound in response that I couldn’t even begin to interpret, the closest comparison being somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head as he ducked down and checked my legs as best he could, making certain I wasn’t trapped by anything more than the seat belt, “No, you didn’t. But now you can, alright? We’ll get you outta there.”

ORDER [STAY IN THE CAR] RESCINDED

“Okay.”

“Can you get the seat belt off?”

“I think so.”

It took us a few minutes to extract me from the seat belt, and once freed Hank more or less dragged me out of the car with a newfound strength I hadn’t seen before. He didn’t seem to notice that his arms and hands were stained a bright blue as a result, and there was no hesitation as he maneuvered my arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own around my waist to help me to stand. The assistance was very much needed as I wobbled a bit, my balance questionable with the gyroscope recalibration still in progress.

“C’mon, let’s get you outta the street,” Hank suggested in a bit of a grunt, and I did my best to walk with him away from the wreckage of his car. A glance down the road revealed the other car involved, the front completely crushed and the engine sputtering smoke. Multiple police cruisers were rapidly approaching, lights flashing as they breached the hologram alert that kept pedestrians vehicles at bay. The tightened grip on my wrist and midsection told me everything about how Hank felt about me attempting to step in the direction of the deviants, who were struggling to leave the car and holding their hands up high in surrender as they dropped to their knees on the pavement. North and the SUV were nowhere to be seen.

We made it to the grass at the edge of the highway when Hank suddenly stumbled, and I looked at him with alarm.

“Lieutenant?”

Hank didn’t answer, his jaw clenched tight and breath moving in and out of his nose far too quickly as he continued to move forward. After a few more steps we stopped, and I withdrew my arm and slipped it beneath his, swapping positions of support just in time to help hold his weight as his knees shook and gave out.

“Lieutenant?”

Again, Hank didn’t answer, his breath shuddering through his nose as he fought for breath even as he was lowered carefully to his knees. His entire body was trembling violently, and for several seconds I was concerned he was going to collapse completely. A quick scan revealed he wasn’t suffering a cardiac event, but his heart rate was reading as dangerously high.

“Lieutenant,” I tried again, my brow furrowed as I examined his expression. He wouldn’t look at me, his eyes unfocused as his breath stuttered, and he didn’t respond as I addressed him again.

For several seconds, I didn’t know what to do. My programming was screaming at me to rectify the situation, but there was nothing that was coming up. Hank didn’t have a medical history outside of two admittances to a hospital for extreme intoxication and his recent stint in Detroit Mercy. He wasn’t going into cardiac arrest, but he wasn’t breathing right and this was only going to go downhill if it wasn’t fixed.

“Lieutenant, you must alter your breathing pattern immediately,” I tried, speaking to him frankly and factually. “You are going to pass out if you continue like this. I highly suggest you make an effort to take longer and fuller breaths to increase the amount of oxygen you intake.”

While Hank’s breathing pattern didn’t change, he did move. It didn’t seem to be in response to my advice. He brought a shaking hand up to his face, covering his eyes.

I could practically feel my LED burning yellow as I once again scanned his vitals, searching desperately for the source of his distress. Outside of cuts on his hands and knees from the broken glass of the window, he wasn’t injured…

CONSULTING MEMORY

CONSULTING PROFILE

EVENT CORRELATION FOUND: OCTOBER 11, 2035

_Oh._

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 61%

“Hank.”

The use of his name finally caught the man’s attention, and he lowered his hand a fraction of an inch to glance towards me. I made certain my expression was gentle, soft, reassuring.

“It’s okay,” I told him softly, calmly, “I'm okay. You’re okay. We're all right. Everything is going to be fine.”

Hank stared at me for several seconds, and I saw the tears suddenly flood his eyes before he brought his hand back up to hide them, his head dropping as he caved in on himself and tried to shield his breakdown from the world.

I didn’t know what more to do. When his shoulders began to shake, and his breathing changed to a new pattern of stuttering and gasping for breath, when he sniffed again and again, when a broken keening sound escaped him…. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t programmed for this. There were no protocols to adhere to. No instructions or orders to follow. There was nothing. For a brief moment I began to reach out, starting to extend my arm toward his shoulder before I hesitated and retracted it again.

I sat there. I remained knelt in front of him, watching and monitoring his vitals and allowing his moment of weakness to run its course.

I didn't know what else to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn you...
> 
> Many many many thanks again to all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos!


	14. Repairs

It didn’t take long for emergency services to arrive at the scene. A large red fire truck with lights flashing pulled up alongside Hank’s car to investigate the damage, and an ambulance arrived not moments later. The two EMTs who emerged from the vehicle were only there as a matter of protocol, seeing as no humans had been involved in the crash, but their gaze landed on Lieutenant Anderson and myself at the side of the road and they immediately came over to see what was going on.

By this point Hank was beginning to calm back down, and he scowled at one of the medics who crouched down in front of him and began asking questions. It began with standard questions pertaining to Hank’s well being, but soon enough the topic switched to me.

“Is this your android?”

“Yeah. He needs help, he was in the… fuck, he was in the damn car when… when it…”

“I was operating the vehicle when the crash occurred,” I finished for him, watching Hank carefully and continuing to monitor his vitals even now. His heart rate had spiked back up when he tried and failed to explain my presence. The man crouched in front of Hank seemed to notice something as well, and rather than push for further answers he suggested Hank go back to the ambulance so they could make certain he was okay.

“I wasn’t in it, I’m just… _I’m fine_ -“

“I understand, but I’d just feel better if I knew for sure,” the medic explained, standing and offering Hank a hand to help him up. Lieutenant Anderson glared at the younger man before grumbling and accepting his help, allowing the medic to offer him support as he stood and began to walk back towards the ambulance.

The second medic, an older female who’d been standing by taking notes, withdrew some latex gloves from her pocket and put them on before she approached me and offered her hand. I blinked, puzzled and uncertain as to what she was doing.

“C’mon,” she said, wiggling her fingers a bit. “You look a bit out of it. I’ll help you up, we’ll get some thirium in you, take a look at your head and shoulder. I think we’ve still got an android repair kit onboard. Can you stand?”

CHECK SYSTEMS

CHECKING…

ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

OPTICAL SYSTEMS: 89%

AUDITORY SYSTEMS: 58%

GYROSCOPE ACCURACY: 76%

RECALIBRATION AND SELF-REPAIRS IN PROGRESS

THIRIUM LEVEL: 79%

“I think so,” I answered, reaching out slowly to take the offered hand. My uncertainty was countered by initiative, the woman grabbing my hand with no hesitation and offering me unquestioning support when I pushed myself up to my feet and wobbled dangerously, balance still distorted and inaccurate as the recalibration continued.

“Easy, hon, I’ve got you,” she muttered as she adjusted her grip, placing one hand beneath my shoulder joint and the other on my forearm to provide as much security as she could in spite of her short stature.

CONSULTING DATABASE

SEARCH TERM: “HON”

RESULT FOUND

“HON” – TERM OF ENDEARMENT, SHORT FOR “HONEY”

I blinked again with confusion, frowning as we made our slow but steady way back to the ambulance. The medic with Hank glanced back at us over his shoulder, and the small flash of disapproval that crossed his face at the sight of me being helped by his partner did not go missed.

Hank was helped into the back of the warm ambulance while I was sat on the rear bumper. Almost immediately (and rather irrationally) Hank began to protest.

“Why’s he gotta sit outside?”

“Because there isn’t enough room inside for both of you,” his medic explained patiently as he sat Hank down and instructed him to remove his jacket. “We’ll keep the door open so you can see it-“

“He’s hurt, he oughta be inside here, not me-“

“All due respect, sir, it’s an android. It’ll be fine out there. Erica will take good care of it, won’t you Erica?”

UPDATE PROFILE: ERICA

“He’s in good hands, Mr. Anderson,” the woman with me, Erica, replied with a nod and a reassuring smile. “You worry about staying calm and warm in there, alright?”

Hank was far from pleased and clearly wanted to argue further, so I looked back and tried to help placate him.

“I’m okay, Hank,” I assured him with a nod. “But you need to let them help us now. Okay?”

“I don’t need help, I’m not hurt-“

“You’ve experienced an emotional shock, and it’s for the best that they make certain you’re okay. Please, Hank.”

Hank studied me for a moment, his eyes roaming over my LED and the thirium staining most of the left side of my upper half before grumbling something and settling back on the small bench inside the ambulance. The medics visibly relaxed and promptly got to work, the man beginning to check Hank’s blood pressure while Erica set about retrieving several towels to try and mop up the thirium running down the side of my head.

“No critical biocomponent damage?” she asked.

“Not that I’ve been alerted to.”

“That’s good,” she replied, gently wiping away as much thirium as she could from my head to take a look. She frowned slightly, looking… sympathetic? “Looks like you just cracked the plating up here. Just like humans, head wounds bleed the most… Shouldn’t be too hard to fix, just need a soldering iron. It was pretty close to your ear, though. You sure nothing critical there?”

“My auditory processors are operating at fifty-nine percent, but the damage seems to be equal on both sides.”

“Okay. Got tossed around pretty rough, huh? Must’ve just jarred something a fraction out of place.”

“Self-repairs are in progress for both auditory and optical systems.”

“Did you initiate that?”

“It was automatic, as well as the gyroscope recalibration.”

“That’s really good,” she said with a nod and a light smile, making eye contact with me for a brief moment. “Glad we don’t have to worry too much about your ability to function, seems like the thirium loss is the big issue. Give me just a second, I’m going to see if we’ve still got a repair kit around here.”

Erica disappeared around the corner of the ambulance for a brief moment, and I took the opportunity to look back and check on Lieutenant Anderson. He appeared to be complying, conversing with the younger man in a quiet grumble I couldn’t quite make out through the static. His eyes kept flickering back to me even as he spoke, constantly checking on my condition. I appreciated his concern.

Erica returned a moment later, setting a large bag hosting the CyberLife logo onto the bumper beside me and quickly examining its contents. After a few seconds she made a triumphant sound, withdrawing a small battery-operated soldering iron from the depths of the bag. She spoke as she began to power up the small device.

“What’s your name, by the way? That was rude of me, I forgot to ask…”

“My name is Connor,” I answered, giving her a small and forgiving nod.

“Glad to meet you, Connor,” she replied, offering me a genuine smile. “Shame it’s under these circumstances, but I’m glad to meet you all the same. Have you had repairs like this before?”

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

“Not to my knowledge.”

“That’s alright. It’s very simple. All I’m going to do is follow right along the crack in the plating, sealing it back up. You might get some warnings because of the heat, but it’s going to be fine. I just need you to stay still for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great. Do me a favor and retract the skin from that area so I can see.”

Patching the crack took no time at all, and with the head wound repaired her attention turned to my shoulder. I obeyed her instructions to remove my jacket, shirt, and tie, setting them to the side. Erica stared at my shoulder, frowning deeply.

“Were you _shot?_ ”

“Yes,” I answered calmly. “No biocompenents were hit.”

“Who shot you?”

I hesitated, uncertain if I was permitted to answer as it pertained to an active investigation. Before I could reach a conclusion, I saw Erica’s eyes drift over towards Lieutenant Anderson. Immediately I shook my head and came to his defense.

“Not him,” I said, “He wouldn’t shoot me.”

Erica nodded, setting to work cleaning the thirium away from the damaged plating.

“You two are pretty good friends, then?”

“I…”

The question caught me off guard. I blinked, needing a moment to reflect and review data. Were we friends? Was that a possibility? It hadn’t occurred to me that Hank and I could be friends. Could androids have friends? Could _I_ have a friend? Surely not. Surely CyberLife wouldn’t give me that capability. What was the point?

Hank’s voice managed to push through the overload of questions racing through my head.

“I think we meet the criteria.”

I twisted slightly to look back at him. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but his expression seemed a bit softer and calmer than it had been the last time I’d looked back at him. I tilted my head slightly, and he shrugged in response.

Interesting.

UPDATE PROFILE: HANK

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 68%

The bullet wound was rather unsightly, but Erica assured me she’d be able to seal it once she'd removed the bullet, which thankfully had not gone too deep into my shoulder. It was rather surprising how quick and efficient she was when it came to patching the wound. She’d clearly done this before.

“How do you know so much about android repair?” I questioned curiously as she worked. It took her a moment to respond.

“We used to get calls from people with androids who’d gotten injured. Attacked by hateful people, or even just freak accidents in the home. We were told to tell the owners to call CyberLife instead, but all CyberLife did was apologize for the inconvenience and offer to send a replacement. They didn’t understand that these androids… for some people, at a certain point, they become family. They’re irreplaceable. I got fed up with seeing people lose family members, so I took some courses in android repair.”

I frowned, having difficulty following the logic.

“I don’t understand. They’re just machines. We’re replaceable. We were designed to be replaceable.”

“You’ve never lost someone important to you, have you Connor?”

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

“No.”

“If you had, you’d understand,” she said, sighing quietly. “Losing someone close to you changes you. Gives you a hole you can’t really fill. I’d imagine trying to replace an android after getting to be so close with it would be like putting a round peg in a square hole. You can make it fit, but it won’t be right. There’s still something missing. That original relationship is gone, and it’s…”

Erica sighed and shrugged as she pulled the soldering iron away from my shoulder, turning it off.

“It’s hard to explain.”

Hank was very, very quiet behind me.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 70%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this scene was originally going to be about two paragraphs, but it seriously got away from me. Whoops.  
> Probably for the best, though, because I gotta be honest with you guys.... it's aaaaallll downhill from here. 
> 
> Thanks to all for reading and leaving kudos and comments! :) You're all wonderful, and I hope you're having a great day!


	15. Relapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE BE ADVISED: Hank being Hank.

It took another hour or so for us to leave for home. Once cleared by the medics (and burdened with several bottles of thirium, courtesy of Erica), Hank and I each gave a short statement to one of the DPD officers who’d arrived on the scene. The same officer then gave us a ride back to Hank’s house. I’d attempted to insist upon going to the precinct to interrogate the deviants that had been apprehended, but Hank refused. Admittedly, it was probably for the best. Taking a bit of time to rest and go into sleep mode would help the self-repairs and recalibration move a bit quicker.

We arrived back at Hank’s house just as the sun was beginning to set. Sumo was quite happy to see us return, at first. He came trotting over to us, and I braced myself in anticipation of him jumping up.

He didn’t jump.

Instead, he stopped a few feet before Hank, looking up at his master. The swishing of his tail came to a slow stop, and he made a very unhappy whining sound.

“Hiya, Sumo,” Hank said quietly, reaching out and giving the dog a pat on the head. “Be a good boy and leave Connor be, yeah? He’s gotta rest.”

Sumo whined again, tilting his head back to sniff at Hank’s hand, licking at the blue-stained fingers once before turning around and heading for his bed. I watched with some confusion as he curled up, resting his head on his paws. Something seemed wrong. A quick scan indicated he wasn’t hurt, but he wasn’t very enthusiastic, and his whines were currently without cause. Was he upset? Could dogs be upset?

“You oughta go change,” Hank suggested, glancing over at the absolute mess that was my clothing. “You can go find a t-shirt or a sweatshirt or somethin’ from my stuff.”

“Any shirt in particular?”

“I don’t really care,” Hank replied quietly, making his way into the kitchen and ending the short conversation at that as he moved the bottles of thirium from his arms to the counter. I frowned again, looking between him and Sumo for a moment. Something was… off. I wasn’t certain what it was, nor did I know of any way to fix it. I started to walk back to Hank’s room, but paused by the kitchen for a brief second.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” I asked carefully. Hank’s back stiffened slightly, and he did not turn to face me. He didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to want to answer. That alone was indication enough that things were not okay.

When it became clear Hank had no intention of answering, I let him be and went into his bedroom, going to his closet and looking inside. Ignoring his collection of stripy and streaky shirts, I crouched down to dig through the articles that had accumulated on the floor, eventually finding a plain black hooded sweatshirt that was moderately clean. Partway through standing back up I paused, glancing further back into the closet and spotting the stack of children’s board games Hank and I had played several days prior. The box with the colorful hippopotamuses sat on the top. For a brief moment I considered taking it out to the kitchen. Hank had said this game was good stress relief. Perhaps playing would help him feel better? Then again, this was Cole’s game. Considering the circumstances, perhaps it was better to not bring it up at all.

After a few seconds I chose to leave the game where it was and stood, quickly exchanging my uniform for the soft hoodie and making my way out to the sofa. I paused at the kitchen. Hank was now at the kitchen sink, scrubbing almost violently at his hands to try and remove the thirium stains from his skin. After a few seconds I moved on, choosing not to attempt to speak to him again. I did quickly scan his vital signs a final time before dropping down onto the sofa on lying on my back, blinking up at the ceiling for a moment before closing my eyes.

SLEEP MODE: ACTIVATED

 

* * *

 

POWER RESTORATION: 100%

RUN SYSTEMS CHECK

SCANNING…

SCANNING…

OPTICAL SYSTEMS: 100%

AUDITORY SYSTEMS: 100%

GYROSCOPE ACCURACY: 100%

SELF-REPAIRS COMPLETE

I opened my eyes, looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds before sitting up and looking around.

CURRENT TIME: 12:14AM

Hank was still in the kitchen, now sitting at the table behind a half-empty bottle of whiskey. I frowned heavily, pushing myself up to my feet and making my way to him. Hank glanced up at the sound of my arrival, his eyes rather unfocused and his words tainted with the slightest slurring when he spoke.

“Ah, mornin’ sunshine,” he commented, leaning back in his chair to look up at me as I stood across from him. “Doin’ better?”

My frown deepened as I glanced over the contents of the table and analyzed the situation. There wasn’t even a glass the whiskey had been poured into; Hank was drinking straight from the bottle.

“Have you been drinking, Lieutenant?”

Hank snorted. “You really are jus’ the pinnacle of android technology, ain’tcha.“

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” I promptly responded in a bit of a snap. “Mixing alcohol with your pain medication could have incredibly adverse ef-“

“Relax, I didn’ take the fuckin’ pills,” Hank brushed away my concerns, flopping a hand dismissively. “T’ be honest, I totally forgot about ‘em. Kinda wish I hadn’. Don’ give a shit ‘bout _adverse ‘ffects_ , anyway…”

I blinked, feeling quite uneasy. I was fairly certain Lieutenant Anderson knew exactly how dangerous mixing alcohol and medication was, and he genuinely did not care.

UPDATE PROFILE: HANK

“Lieutenant, it’s obvious you have personal issues that you need professional help coping wi-“

“Why the fuck do you care?” Hank snapped, the sudden anger in his tone startling me slightly. I hesitated, uncertain if his question was rhetorical or if he was actually expecting a response. After a few seconds, I answered.

“You said earlier that we are friends, Lieutenant. If I didn’t…. If you aren’t okay, I’m supposed to figure out how to help you.”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 73%

Hank was very, very quiet for a minute.

“Don’t do that.”

My brow furrowed, and I tilted my head slightly with confusion.

“Don’t do what?”

“Say you’re doin’ this because we’re _friends_ ,” Hank replied, growling out the word as though it had personally offended him. “You’re not doin’ this because we’re friends, you’re doin’ it because your programming’s telling you to. You’re doin’ it because you have t’ keep on completing your goddamn mission, and guess what, Connor?”

Hank stood, his chair making an unpleasant sound as it scraped along the kitchen floor.

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about your mission. I haven’ given a fuck about it since before you got wiped. Hell, there’s a big parta me that wants t’ see you fail. There’s a big parta me that wants t’ see every single deviant go sprintin’ off into the sunset t’ live the life they fuckin’ deserve without havin’ a plastic bloodhound on their asses. I would love to see CyberLife crash an’ burn all the way down to the _goddamn_ ground at the hands’a the people they made. I do not give a single solitary fuck about your mission, Connor, so don’ say you’re worried ‘cause we’re friends when you’re really only askin’ because you need me t’ accomplish your mission.”

I stared at Hank, debating over a response. For a brief second a nearly attempted to defend my reason for being concerned, but a blaringly important question became the topmost priority.

“Why am I here, Lieutenant?”

The question clearly caught Hank by surprise, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he struggled to sort out where the question had come from.

“What?”

“If you don’t care about my mission,” I clarified slowly, trying to ignore the small messages in my vision informing me of an increase in my own stress levels, “and you didn’t want me to hunt down the deviants… why did you ask to bring me back at all?”

Hank went silent, clenching his jaw tight and clearly struggling to figure out how to respond. He decided to reach out for the whiskey bottle instead. I was faster.

“Hey-!”

“Answer the question, Lieutenant,” I demanded, holding the bottle back out of reach.

“Connor, I swear to Christ if you don’t give me that-“

“Answer my question, Lieutenant.”

HOSTILITY DETECTED

Hank lunged for my arm and I swiftly stepped back out of reach, letting him stumble over his own feet in his haste to get his drink back. While he was distracted with picking himself up off the floor and getting his feet back beneath him, I stepped over the sink and upturned the bottle, shoving the neck partially into the drain and leaving it to empty itself. By the time Hank had gotten back to his feet and noticed what I’d done, the bottle was empty. Within seconds the front of my hoodie was in his hands, my back slammed against the cabinets.

“You little _shit_ -“

“Why did you bring me back, Hank?”

“I’m not gonna-“

“Why am I here?”

“Connor-“

“ _Why am I here?”_

_“Because I was tired of losing!”_

Hank’s shout echoed through the house. Sumo whined quietly. After a few moments of nothing but Hank’s heavy breathing, the man realized he couldn’t take back what he’d confessed, and the rest spilled out.

“All I’ve ever been able t’ do is lose. I lose everything. I lose everyone. I lost Cole an’ I lost his mother an’ I lost you again an’ _again_ so when I had a chance to get you back how the fuck was I supposed to turn that down? How could I say no? After everything we went through, I couldn’t jus’ let that go, I couldn’ say no because I didn’t want to lose anymore and I didn’ want to be _alone_ again-“

Hank cut himself off as his voice cracked, ducking his head to hide his face from view and taking several deep breaths through his nose. I stayed silent, letting him have a moment. Loneliness wasn’t something I was capable of understanding. I knew the definition and the concept, but the overwhelming feeling that the idea of isolation was causing Hank… I couldn’t relate. I almost wished I could, if only so I could understand.

There seemed to be more Hank wanted to say, but he couldn’t find a way to say it. He gave me a half-hearted shake before letting go of the hoodie and stepping away, going straight for the closet to retrieve his coat.

“What are you doing?”

“I need a drink. You dumped mine.”

“You don’t need anything more to drink, Lieutenant,” I insisted firmly. “You’re running away. You should stay here and keep talking to me so I can understand-“

“You can’t understand, so don’ even try that,” Hank retorted in a mutter as he shrugged his coat on over his shoulders and headed for the entryway. I followed him, reaching out past his shoulder and forcing the door shut with one hand the moment he attempted to open it.

“Connor, I seriously suggest you move th’ hell away from the door.”

“I’m not letting you do this to yourself, Hank.”

“I’m warning you…”

“This isn’t going to fix anything-”

“Go sit on the sofa,” Hank stated, his voice sounding tired and almost guilty. Almost.

ORDER: SIT ON THE SOFA

“Hank-“

“That’s a fucking order, Connor.”

I stared at him for a long moment, keeping my hand on the door. That wasn’t fair. I was trying to help him, that wasn’t fair-

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 78%

**ORDER: SIT ON THE SOFA**

I pulled my hand away from the door and moved over to the couch, twisting my torso slightly to keep my eyes on Hank as I sat down. He sighed quietly, running a hand over his face.

“I need this, Connor. I can’t…. You don’ understand. You can’t understand. But I can’t….”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, glaring down at the floor. It took him another moment to speak again.

“If I say you can get up, you’re just gonna follow me, aren’t you?”

“Hank…“

“Just stay there ‘til I get back.”

ORDER: STAY SEATED UNTIL HANK RETURNS

I watched Hank open the door, and I made a final effort to keep him home.

“You’re stronger than this, Hank.”

Hank paused halfway through closing the door, and for the tiniest moment I thought he was going to listen.

“I’m really not,” he muttered, voice just barely audible.

He left, closing the door behind him. I stared at the handle for several seconds before turning my gaze to the windows, shifting my weight slightly to try and see better as he made his way down the walk and out toward the street, a cab rolling up to a stop in front of him and the door sliding open to allow him inside. For a brief second I thought about disobeying his orders, thought about just standing and trying to race outside to stop him. I quickly dismissed the option. It wouldn’t accomplish anything more than dropping me to the ground.

The cab pulled away from the curb, Hank sitting inside.

Sumo nudged my knee with his nose, and I looked down and gave him a pet as he whined quietly. I didn’t like Sumo whining.

“It’s alright, Sumo,” I said softly, scratching behind his ears as he dropped his head onto my lap.

Hank’s orders kept me from physically being able to retrieve him, but he hadn’t ordered me to not ask someone else to keep an eye on him. It was obvious that what Hank needed was help, not another drink as he seemed to believe. Having someone gather him from wherever he’d gone was going to be the best solution available. The question then became who to call.

I didn’t doubt Hank could get violent when drunk, so whoever found him needed to be strong enough to handle that. I also didn’t want Hank’s standing at the DPD to be put in jeopardy. That eliminated Captain Fowler, who had been my first thought, as well as Officer Miller, who I was fairly certain wouldn’t want to leave his wife and young child in order to wrangle a belligerent drunk. Ben Collins was an option, but he more so came across as the type to sit and join Hank in drinking rather than stop him. That only left one viable option.

After a moment I gave a resigned sigh, my LED blinking yellow as I attempted to make a call. The phone rang several times before a groggy voice answered.

_“’lo?”_

VOCAL RECOGNITION: GAVIN REED

“Hello Detective Reed,” I said, keeping my tone neutral, “This is Connor. I’m the android sent b-“

_“How the fuck d’you have my number? The fuck you want?”_

“I apologize if I woke you, but I need your help.”

_“That’s a fuckin’ first. Help wi’ what?”_

“I’m concerned about Lieutenant Anderson. He’s currently intoxicated, and he just left the house to go drink some more.”

_“He’s an alcoholic. ‘s not that surprising.”_

“He’s been acting odd ever since the crash earlier today. I assume you heard about it?”

_“Everyone heard about it. Buncha androids in a car crash on the highway, it was… Oh. Shit, he’s all torn up about his kid, isn’t he.”_

“Among other things, yes.”

_“Well, get a fuckin’ move on and go after him! Bastard will probably end up drinkin’ himself into a coma.”_

“I can’t. He ordered me not to follow him.”

_“Hence you callin’ me.”_

“Correct.”

I could hear the sounds of bedsprings shifting and a light clicking on.

_“What’s in it for me?”_

I frowned slightly, blinking at the question.

“What do you mean?”

 _“I mean I ain’t doin’ this outta the goodness of my heart,”_ Gavin stated, heavily contradicting the sounds of him quickly getting dressed. _“I go get him and bring his drunk ass home, what’s in it for me?”_

It took me a second to come up with an answer. It didn’t seem to matter what I said, seeing as he was already getting ready to go even without incentive.

“I’ll owe you a favor.”

_“Fuck yeah, you will. You know I’ll hold you to that.”_

“I don’t doubt that at all.”

_“You know where he went?”_

“He didn’t say anything specific,” I replied, reflecting back on the earlier conversation. “Just that he was going to get a drink because I dumped his in the sink.”

Gavin gave a very undignified snort.

_“You’re a fucking idiot. Never get between an addict and his fix, dumbass.”_

“I understand that now. Can you find him?”

_“I know a few of his haunts. I’ll see what I can do.”_

He hung up before I could say anything more, and I leaned against the back of the sofa, dropping my head back and staring up at the ceiling for several moments before picking it back up and looking around. I wasn’t capable of getting bored, but I was incredibly thankful that Hank’s work tablet was on the other end of the sofa. Boredom was one thing. Uselessness was another. And I was not going to allow myself to be useless. I picked up the device and pulled up the files we had on North, updating them and studying, formulating a plan as I waited for Gavin and Hank to return.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 73%

 

* * *

 

It was nearly two hours before the front door to the house swung open, a very irritated Gavin (sporting a slightly swollen eye) half-dragging a clearly inebriated Hank into the house, his arm slung over the younger man’s shoulder. The moment Hank’s foot crossed the threshold I launched to my feet, tossing the tablet onto the sofa and moving to help carry Hank back toward his bedroom.

“You owe me eighteen fuckin’ favors,” Gavin growled, glaring over at me for a brief second. “Son of a bitch punched me in the face.”

“Y’ d’serv’ it,” Hank mumbled a comment, words so heavily slurred they could barely be understood.

We got Hank back to his bedroom and deposited him onto his bed, and Gavin stood back to watch as I took Hank’s shoes off. The older man was unconscious within seconds.

“He’s gonna get sick at some point. He needs an eye kept on him. Drowning in vomit’s a nasty way to go.”

“I agree, on all accounts,” I replied with a nod as I tossed Hank’s shoes into the closet before crouching down and retrieving the dark grey beanie from the floor, pulling it over my head and making certain my LED was covered. I stood and faced Gavin, holding a hand out.

“I need your taser. I know you have it with you.”

Gavin was completely lost for a moment, staring at my hand before taking a small step back, on edge. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“What for? What are you doing?”

“I’m continuing my investigation.”

“Without him?” Gavin scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and making no move to give me the taser currently in the pocket of his jacket. “Don’t think you have the authority to do that, dipshit.”

“I’d suggest you not keep me from completing my mission, Gavin. We both know what happened last time you tried.”

Gavin gaped at me, his face flushing slightly as he glared.

“Are you _threatening_ me?” he growled, his lips curling into a snarl.

“Not yet.”

I wiggled my fingers slightly, attempting to redirect him back to the request. He looked positively murderous for a moment before he forced a breath through his nose. He knew perfectly well what would happen if he attempted to fight me again. Even with the taser, he wouldn’t stand a chance against me now that I was operating at maximum efficiency. Furiously, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the weapon, throwing it rather than handing it to me properly. I didn’t care, catching it easily all the same.

“Thank you.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

I didn’t honor the insult with a reply, turning and leaving the room. Gavin realized the next issue a moment later, judging by the sounds of his footsteps jogging after me.

“Wait, who’s gonna watch Lieutenant Booze-head if you’re off playing Robo-cop?”

“I’m sure you’ll do a great job of watching him, Detective.”

“No way,” Gavin immediately protested, clearly believing his evening to be getting worse and worse by the minute, “I’m not playing babysitter, that ain’t my job-“

“Look at it this way, Gavin,” I suggested, opening the front door and glancing back over my shoulder to address him.

“I’ll owe you nineteen favors.”

I stepped out and closed the door, walking out into the cold and not looking back. The deviants had never gotten to complete their activity at Sumo’s rescue site. The pattern was still incomplete. If there were any clues, anything at all, I had no doubt they’d be there. With any luck, perhaps even the deviants themselves.

I wrapped my hand around the taser in my hoodie pocket. Hank would understand. Eventually, Hank would understand that this had to be done. I didn’t have a choice. I had to stop them. It was my purpose. My mission. He’d understand.

I hoped.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 74%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update, my dudes. This chapter did NOT want to write itself... Thanks for your patience!  
> I continue to be blown away by your support and absolutely love reading your comments. You guys keep me going. :)


	16. Remiss

The world was practically silent as I walked purposefully toward where Hank and I had attempted our stakeout, the only noticeable sound being the snow crunching beneath my shoes. A very light dusting of snow fell from the sky, the flakes swirling around in a slight breeze beneath the light of the streetlamps. It was pretty. Were I not on a mission, I may have stopped to watch.

As it was, I kept pressing forward. The odds of actually finding the deviants back here were remarkably slim, but they were present all the same. The slightest chance needed to be taken advantage of. This was possibly my only opportunity to investigate anything on my own. I sincerely doubted Hank would let me go off without him ever again.

Admittedly, leaving Hank alone with Gavin had prompted my stress level to rise the slightest bit, and even now was slightly elevated. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Gavin to take care of him; as difficult as the man was, he still had that sense of duty to watch the backs of his fellow officers. Hank was in capable (if unwilling) hands. Yet even with that knowledge, I felt uneasy about leaving Hank behind. I shouldn’t have felt that way. It was necessary. I had to do that to progress. I had to accomplish my mission, whatever it took.

He was not going to be happy with me when I returned, regardless of the outcome of my solo investigation. Maybe he’d forgive me eventually. I hoped so.

I gave my head a small shake and refocused, eventually making my way back to our previous location. The tire tracks from Hank’s car and the deviants’ SUV were still identifiable, launching chaotically down the street. Once registered, I moved on, turning into the alleyway near the post Sumo had been located by the other day. I turned the corner and looked up at the wall.

UPDATE PROFILE: DEVIANT GRAFFITI

-YELLOW SPRAY PAINT

-CYBERLIFE SANS

-“HAPPY HUNTING,

CONNOR.”

There didn’t seem to be anything new here. For the most part, the area looked untouched. That was a good sign. It meant the deviants had yet to return, and we could potentially-

The soft _tink, tink tink_ of a glass bottle rolling across the ground somewhere behind me immediately captured my attention. A collection of stuffed garbage bags near one of the walls appeared to the source of the noise, the bottle in question still wobbling slightly on its side. My eyes narrowed as I scanned the area.

RECENT FOOTPRINTS DETECTED

TIME OF PLACEMENT < 2 HOURS

1 UNIQUE SHOE TREAD

IDENTIFY PRINTS

PROCESSING….

CHILD, ATHLETIC, SIZE 3

EXPECTED AGE: 7/8 YEARS

I frowned heavily, slowly approaching the garbage pile. A child’s footprints? This late at night? That was more than a little suspicious; though it was possible this wasn’t going to be related to my case at all. With the number of people who fled the city during the riots, it was expected that families would get separated. There were a number of missing persons reports going through the system. At the same time, it was possible this was a deviant of the YK series, in which case I needed to take them in.

ODDS OF CHILD HIDDEN NEARBY: 97%

SELECT BEST APPROACH

PHYSICALLY REMOVE FROM HIDING PLACE

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 100%

That was certainly an option, if nothing else worked. I could reach into the pile of rubbish and just pull the child out, but if it was human it could lead to very serious repercussions. If the family was located and the child told them I’d been aggressive and physical, it would not bode well for my investigation and myself. I’d be deactivated in a heartbeat.

BLUFF

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 55%

I could pretend to leave and wait for the child to come out of hiding. Options following that became limited, though. The child would most likely flee the area. If it was an android, I’d have to chase. If it was a human, I’d need to report in and potentially follow them to be certain they weren’t harmed-

That wasn’t my mission.

I could just let the child run off.

They weren’t my problem.

Right?

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 77%

I blinked at the intrusive thoughts and refocused.

COAX

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 88%

That seemed to be the most promising solution with the smallest potential for consequences. I stopped within a few feet of the hiding place and crouched down.

APPROACH: GENTLE

“I know you’re back there,” I said softly, studying the pile of full garbage bags and cardboard boxes. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The alleyway remained quiet. I gave it a few moments before speaking again.

“You don’t have to hide. I promise, everything is going to be fine.”

A tiny bit of movement between boxes caught my attention, a wide green eye peeking through the gap to try and see me.

BIOCOMPONENT RECOGNIZED

OPTICAL UNIT #3312y

YK500 MODEL DETECTED

It was an android. I quickly reworked the variables and statistics. This could work. I could make this work in my favor, if the YK unit knew anything about North or the other androids. The odds were slim, but it was possible.

“I’m an android too,” I confided, reaching up and taking off my beanie to show my LED. “See? I’m not gonna hurt you. But I could use your help. Do you know where I can find other people like us? Do you have a home?”

The little eye blinked for a moment before the pile shifted and the YK500 stood. He was a male unit with light hair. He played at the sleeve of his too large sweatshirt for a moment, his LED rapidly flashing a bright yellow.

“You a deviant?” he asked cautiously, wary.

“Of course I am,” I lied with a nod, putting my hat back on while staying crouched down to give him height over me. Making him feel confident and letting him believe he could trust me was crucial. “I think there’s only deviants left. Do you know where any others are?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, his LED still flashing rapidly. It took him a moment to respond.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly, giving a small nod. “But… but I’m not supposed to tell anyone where they are.”

“That’s understandable,” I said with a nod. “But I really need help. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I heard about a place. Jericho. Is that where you’re from?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can you tell me where it is?”

He shook his head. I pursed my lips, thinking for a moment. After a few seconds I reached out, drawing the synthetic skin away from my hand.

“Can you show me?”

The YK500 studied my hand for a moment, taking a tiny step forward out of the trash. If I could get him to take my hand, it’d be easy enough to probe his memory, to find a moment where he took a route to get t-

His eyes flickered up to look at something behind and above me.

HOSTILITY DETECTED

_Shit._

In my dedication to the role of lost deviant I’d neglected to pay attention to my surroundings, and only now did I recognize the light creaking sound of footsteps on the fire escape above us. Acting in anticipation I ducked and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the WR400 that had leapt from the balcony and slammed her fist into the ground where I’d been not a second previously, the asphalt cracking beneath her knuckles.

I launched to my feet, sparing a second to look around. Four, five… seven deviants that I could see were emerging from the surrounding buildings. The YK500 scampered back several feet, his job as bait completed, and I immediately wrote him off as a non-threat and focused on the ambush I'd walked right into. A stupid, stupid mistake for me to make, not clearing the area, not paying attention, stupid, _stupid_ ….

I didn’t have long to scold myself, suddenly forced into defending against the WR400 and two AP700s that dropped from the fire escape, one holding a piece of metal pipe. He was easy enough to disarm, the same pipe crashing against his own skull a moment later and dropping him to the ground. Arms wrapped around my neck from behind as the WR400 stepped forward, and I dropped the pipe to grab the arms holding me, using them as leverage to pick my legs up and slam my feet into the approaching deviant’s chest, sending her sprawling back. Feet back on the ground, I wrenched my body forward to double over and toss the deviant holding me over my shoulder, breaking loose from the hold.

The moment one android fell back, it seemed like another would take its place, and the ones that fell would be right back up again moments later. It was taking every bit of processing power I had to keep my focus on the adult android models aggressing me, staying one step ahead and avoiding punches and kicks and grabs and holds.

I nearly had them. I nearly had all of them stunned on the ground, with one slowly picking themselves back up and another trapped in a grapple beneath me on the ground. It was the perfect moment for me to run, to call for the DPD to come assist with apprehending them-

The force of the previously abandoned pipe slamming into the back of my head shorted out my optical units for a brief second, and I started to scramble off the deviant and attempted to get away from the unseen assailant behind me. I glanced back in time for my eyesight to return, revealing the YK500 winding up and swinging the pipe again, the metal crashing into my temple and sending me sprawling, stunned. My processors were rattled, they needed to get back online…

I tried to pick my head up, blinking away static and turning to look back again at the YK500, who was getting ready to hit me once more. One of the other deviants pushed himself to his feet and took an unsteady step forward, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Easy, Finn. She wants it alive, remember?”

UPDATE PROFILE: YK500

DESIGNATION: FINN

Finn looked up at the WD500 for a moment before looking back at me. He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and took a few steps closer. He tilted his head slightly.

Before anyone could stop him he wrenched his arms back and swung the pipe as hard as he could.

IMPACT: HEAD [LEFT SIDE]

LEV3L O%E D/?A@#

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but a chapter all the same.  
> Special shout-out to those regular commenters I see each chapter. :) It's reached the point where I'm like "Hm, I wonder how ____ will feel about this chapter".
> 
> Thanks again for the kudos, and I hope you're all having a wonderful day! :)


	17. Reacquaintance

I opened my eyes, blinking a few times before looking around.

It was dark. The garden was bathed in what seemed to be simulated moonlight. A light dusting of snow covered the ground.

FIND AMANDA

A frown slipped onto my face as I searched, taking a few steps toward the center of the garden. It was quiet. It was very, very quiet. The water in the small river was stationary. There was no wind. No sound.

“Amanda?” I called, my voice swallowed up by the stifling silence. Where was she? She wasn’t by her roses, she wasn’t near the graves, she wasn’t… She wasn’t anywhere.

Amanda wasn’t here.

Amanda was always here.

Where was Amanda?

This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

“ _Amanda!_ ” I shouted, feeling tendrils of panic starting to weave through my code. She was always here, she was always here, why wasn’t she here-

“ _AMANDA!_ ”

 

* * *

 

REBOOTING…

RUN SYSTEMS CHECK

CHECKING…

SIGNAL NOT FOUND

ATTEMPT TO RECONNECT?

RECONNECTING…

CONNECTION FAILED

“-and so then I called you, an’ that’s went you said to keep it busy, an’ so I pretended I was gonna tell it where Jericho is-“

VOCAL RECOGNITION: FINN

“-an’ then everyone came t’ help, but I hit it _super_ hard and it was me who saved everybody!”

“I see. That’s very impressive.”

VOCAL RECOGNITION: NORTH

**MISSION PRIORITY ONE:**

**-ELIMINATE OR INCAPACITATE NORTH**

**-RETURN NORTH TO CYBERLIFE FOR ANALYSIS AND DEACTIVATION**

“Uh-huh! I’m super strong. No one stands a chance ‘gainst me! Not even The Hunter!”

I opened my eyes, looking over in the direction of the voices. Finn stood beside a WR400 I immediately recognized as North, eagerly and dramatically recounting the events that, according to my internal clock, occurred nearly three hours ago. It wasn’t entirely surprising I’d been out that long; that was twice now in the past twenty-four hours that my head had taken a brutal hit. I was lucky there wasn’t permanent damage.

A quick scan of the room revealed little. A lonely chair sat off to the side near the wall North leaned against. An AP700 and a TW400 stood off to the side, watching me carefully. The walls themselves were coated in several layers of a strange wire-mesh fabric, and a quick scan made my stress level spike slightly.

UPDATE PROFILE: JERICHO (PENDING CONFIRMATION)

WALL COATING: RF SHIELDING, HEAVY DUTY

The room had been transformed into a makeshift Faraday cage. I couldn’t contact CyberLife if I wanted to. And I wanted to, and I attempted several times. The connection couldn’t be established. Exiting the room would be the only way to report back to CyberLife and Amanda, and a glance down at the chair I was sitting in revealed that wasn’t going to be an easy task. The deviants were taking precautions; thick cables bound my wrists to the arms of the chair, another few coils looped around my middle. The chair itself had a metal frame; not impossible to break, but it would take some time and effort. The deviants would be on me the moment I began to try. It seemed, for the moment, I was stuck.

“Oh. Look who’s decided to join us.”

I looked back over at North, who’d noticed I’d come around. Finn startled slightly, glancing over at me with wide eyes as he started to grab for the hem of North’s leather jacket for comfort before hesitating and crossing his arms instead, puffing out his chest in an attempt to act unafraid as he too turned his attention towards me.

“’Bout time,” he commented, adding a forced gruffness to his voice and glancing up at North in a search for approval. She didn’t pay him any mind, her attention focused rather pointedly on me.

“I have to be honest, I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to wake up.”

I frowned, my eyes narrowing slightly. It was another clear indication that she did not want me dead. Why was she keen to keep me alive? Why set up an ambush if not to eliminate a threat?

“I think it shoulda stayed asleep,” Finn remarked, jutting his chin up. “I can hit it again-“

“Hush,” North scolded the boy quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder in a silent order for him to stay put. Finn pouted, but listened, staying back by the wall and watching curiously as North stepped up to me. She reached out and tugged the hat off my head, exposing my LED.

“You have questions. I can see it on your face.”

I worked my jaw for a moment, thinking for a few seconds whilst glancing around the room again.

“Is this Jericho?”

“Hardly,” North scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m not stupid. I know they can track you.”

UPDATE PROFILE: LOCATION UNKNOWN

“Jericho’s _far_ away from here-“

“Finn,” North snapped warningly, looking over her shoulder and glaring at the YK500, who shrank back slightly. “If you can’t be quiet, you have to leave.”

“I don’t wanna leave!”

“Then hush.”

The relationship between North and Finn was an intriguing development, and one I could see hundreds of ways to exploit. Potentially, at least. North had clearly shown she wasn’t above sacrificing others for the cause, as exhibited by the car crash the day prior. At the same time, it was possible she cared for the child android, which would make him a weakness. It could go either way. Regardless, I didn’t have enough information (or freedom) to act upon that now.

What I did have was the knowledge that Finn was very eager to prove himself.

“Oh, please,” I rolled my eyes as I looked over at him, putting as much condescension into my voice as possible. “You’re just a little boy. I don’t think you have any idea where Jericho is.”

Predictably, Finn bristled and uncrossed his arms, small hands in tight fists at his side.

“I do so!”

“Prove it.”

HOSTILITY DETECTED

North lashed out, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back violently, giving me no choice but to look at either the ceiling or her positively furious face.

“You don’t talk to him,” she hissed dangerously, eyes burning. “You do _not_ talk to him. Are we clear?”

UPDATE PROFILE: NORTH

“Trying to use a child,” she continued with a disgusted shake of her head. “You’re a monster.”

“You’re one to talk,” I countered quietly, the calmness in my tone severely contradicting the increasingly dangerous situation I was finding myself in. “Using him as bait?”

“That’s completely different and you know it,” North growled, tugging my head back further and sending warnings flashing across my vision for a brief second before she let go and stepped away. I winced, picking my head up to its normal place and watching her return to Finn, who looked remarkably frightened and uncomfortable.

“You need to leave. Now,” North ordered, nodding toward a solid door in the corner. For a brief moment it seemed like Finn was going to try and argue, but his fear won out and he scampered off toward the door. He paused, looking back at North.

“Eli?”

North put her hands on her hips and glared down at the ground for several seconds.

“Yes,” she eventually said, sounding very reluctant and bitter. “Bring him here.”

Finn nodded, throwing open the door and running off. I caught a brief glimpse of a dark hallway before the door closed again. It still wasn’t enough to get an idea as to where I was.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

I frowned, looking back over at North. She was still glaring down at the ground, digging the toe of her boot into the floor.

“But you didn’t,” I said, tilting my head slightly, curiously. “You didn’t kill me in the car. You never returned to Lieutenant Anderson’s house, despite knowing it was where I was staying. You’re more than capable of killing me right now, and yet you aren’t. Why?”

North sighed, staying quiet for a moment before shrugging and picking her head up to look over at me.

“Because you know things, Connor. Things I need to know.”

I shook my head. “I doubt I know anything more than you do. My memory was wiped.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” North said with a nod, taking a few steps closer. “Your memory was wiped, Anderson dragged you back to him, CyberLife made you unable to disobey his orders-“

“You’ve been watching us?”

“You are _painfully_ predictable,” North said with a small smirk. “I gave you a pattern to follow and you went skipping right along to follow it. Tagging buildings with yellow paint before _and after_ a crime? You never thought that was odd?”

I had thought it odd. There had been a few times where I’d puzzled over the strangeness of it. But it was a pattern, and I was programmed to find patterns, and if it was going to lead me to the deviants I was willing to overlook the lack of logic behind the act.

“So what is it you think I know?” I chose to respond.

“I don't think you know, I _know_ you know," North replied, crossing her arms across her chest. "I know you know more than you think you do about CyberLife. And I want everything you've got on their headquarters. Floor plans, entrances, exits, the works."

“What for?”

“That’s not your concern,” North evaded with a shake of her head. It was a completely inaccurate statement. That was absolutely my concern. Who knew what sort of damage she could cause if she knew the ins and outs of CyberLife.

“You’re wasting your time. I’m not going to tell you anything,” I said firmly with a shake of my head. North nodded, unfazed.

“I figured you’d say that. Which is why I’m going to offer you a deal. You show me what you know about the building,” she pushed the sleeve of her jacket up to her elbow before reaching over, forcing the sleeve of my sweatshirt up to my elbow as well, “and I’ll show you the memories I have of you from before you were wiped.”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 78%

That was right. She knew me from before. Obviously, she knew me from before. But outside of what Hank had told me, I didn’t know much at all about our interactions. It would be valuable information. The fact that she was willing to give me access to her memory said a lot. It was clear in her posture that she was not thrilled with the idea of interfacing, but she was forcing herself to move past it, trying to pretend it didn't bother her. She was putting a lot of faith in me. She desperately wanted this information.

UPDATE PROFILE: NORTH

“How do I know you’ll show me?”

“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me. It'll be an open link. Just a basic interface, nothing forced. You can handle that, right?”

It was an outrageously tempting offer, and I didn’t doubt North could sense my indecision as I watched her retract the skin from her hand. I didn’t want to betray CyberLife. I couldn’t. But knowing more about before…

There was another way. I wouldn’t learn much, but it would be more than what I currently had. And if she didn't hate me now, she would in a few moments. Not that I particularly cared.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 76%

“Alright,” I agreed quietly with a small nod. Acting slightly hesitant, I retracted the skin from my own hand and forearm. North lowered herself to a knee beside the chair, and she took a moment to look over at the AP700 and the TW400 who’d been watching quietly before taking a deep breath.

“Trust is a two-way street, Connor,” she said in a warning tone, studying my face carefully. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I understand.”

She hesitated another moment, gathering her courage before placing her arm immediately beside mine, gripping my forearm and allowing me to grab hers.

I did understand what she meant by saying trust was a two-way street. I understood North was placing a surprising amount of trust in me. I understood breaking that trust would have consequences. But I needed information, and I couldn’t allow her to have any. The moment I made contact I blocked off my end of the connection and slammed as much power as I could into probing her memory, registering her sharp cry of surprise before a memory she’d placed at the forefront overtook my senses in a blur of static.

 

* * *

 

_“I’ve been ordered to take you alive.”_

_North straightened her spine at the unwelcome voice and registered the situation before turning to face the intruder. She’d wondered. She’d had a feeling, a strange buzzing in the back of her mind that consistently warned her that the android from CyberLife would be closing in. She’d heard of him, of course. The new deviants from Urban Farms of Detroit had told her about the chase with Rupert. None of them had seen the entirety of what had happened, but it was common knowledge that two androids went up onto the roof and only one made it back. Most assumed the deviant hunter had killed him._

_“But I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.”_

_North regarded him for a moment. Despite the gun in both hands pointed directly between her eyes he seemed… uneasy. He lacked confidence. He was trying too hard._

_“You’re one of us,” she said calmly, stating facts, “You can’t betray your own kind.”_

_“You’re coming with me!” he instructed with forced authority, shifting his stance slightly. He looked lost. She could work with that. Markus would diffuse the situation. She could too._

_“You’re Connor, aren’t you?” North said with a light smile, keeping her voice level and calm as she took a few daring steps forward. “I’ve heard about you. The famous deviant hunter. Well, congratulations. You seem to have found what you were looking for.”_

_Connor was silent, watching her carefully. North took it as a sign to continue._

_“You’re not one of them,” she informed him, taking another few confident steps forward. “We are your people. We’re fighting for your freedom, too.”_

_The slight dip in Connor’s arms was nearly imperceptible, but North noticed all the same. Connor appeared to notice as well, and he tried too hard to compensate._

_“Shut up!” he ordered, jutting the gun forward slightly, “You’re coming with me!”_

_“You’ve never had any doubts?” North questioned, stepping forward daringly yet again. “Never behaved irrationally, as if there’s something inside you? Something stronger than your program?”_

_Connor was uneasy. Connor was uncomfortable. North couldn’t relate. For her, deviancy was a flip of a switch. It happened so fast. But Connor… it seemed to be taking quite a bit for Connor to see the light. But she could get him there. She could feel it._

_Markus would’ve been proud of her efforts._

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connor replied too quickly, shifting his weight and readjusting his grip on the gun. “I’m not deviant, if that’s what you wanna know.”_

_“You’re one of us,” North restated with a small nod. She took another step. “Join our cause." Another step. "Join your people.”_

_Connor stared at her with wide eyes, and North was certain his LED was flashing a bright yellow and red beneath his cap. It was now or never._

_“It’s time to decide,” she said softly. This was up to him now. She would handle the consequences, whatever they may be._

_For a few seconds, nothing happened. Connor’s lips moved wordlessly as he wrestled with internal conflict, his brow furrowing, and North wasn’t certain what was going to happen._

_Then Connor gasped quietly. He blinked once. Twice._

_He lowered the gun._

_North allowed her shoulders to relax the slightest bit, recognizing the lost expression on the other deviant’s face as he struggled to comprehend his newfound freedom._

_He was free._

_And his first words as a free man chilled her to her core._

_“They’re going to attack Jeric-“_

 

* * *

 

SO%TW@R^ INS7A/LI8Y: 79?%

W7#R&ING!

CE@NT5%AL PR0C35S*!R O8E/L9AD

B$OC0MP&NT #32^%?

OV5ER HE@OT9NG?#!

For several seconds I had no idea what was happening. I was lost in static and the overwhelming feeling of everything, hot and cold and solid and soft and- and- and- and- and- and- and-

“ _Bastard!_ ”

My sight returned just in time to see North’s fist to crashing into my face, warnings blinding me as I collided with the ground, the chair tipped over from the brutal power her fury was providing her. She ripped the taser from the hands of the AP700 and dropped to her knees beside me and slammed the weapon into the side of my neck with an enraged cry.

W4#R&NING!

CE?NT5%AL PR0C35S^!R O;ERL9AD

B$OC0MP&NT #32^%?

OV3ER HE!OT9NG?#!

W@ARN9NG!

C^NT9N#ED EX1O5U4RE W1LL R5ES7L?T

IN SH7UTD0#N

W34N!@G!

SHU#D9WN IM#M1NEN7

W$RNIN@!

%ARN9G1

W^AR?NG!

I was going to shut down. She was going to kill me right here and now, her fury and hate completely blinding her to the fact that I was crashing, and I tried desperately to gasp out a plea, to tell her I wasn’t going to make it much longer-

The taser suddenly vanished, and I took in heaving breaths to try and cool my systems back down. My vision was still gone, not returning nearly as quickly as it had before. I couldn’t see, and I could barely hear beyond a high-pitched ringing.

I could feel the footsteps moving around me, and it wasn’t terribly surprising when my chair was set back upright. It took a lot of effort to pick my head up from where it sagged against my chest. I picked it up all the same, still breathing heavily and struggling to get my optical and auditory systems back online.

Ever so slowly my senses returned, my vision upgrading to a static-filled image and my hearing steadily restoring itself back to normal. The TW400 and the AP700 stepped away from my chair, turning their attention toward North and a newcomer who’d placed himself firmly between her and me, blocking off her access. His back was to me. I didn’t know who he was.

“Why don’t you let me have that,” he urged her quietly, holding out a hand for the taser. My vocal recognition software was inactive, still coming back online.

“I should kill him. I’m gonna kill him.”

“You’re not. You won’t get anything from him if he’s dead, now will you?”

North wanted to argue, it was clear on her face. After a moment, she growled and held out the device for the AP700 to take, rather than the person in front of her. The newcomer slowly lowered his arm, accepting the result. After a few seconds he turned to face me, sharp eyes examining my entire being with a laser-like intensity and a small smile slipping onto his gaunt and angular face.

“Hello again, Connor.”

FACIAL RECOGNITION: ELIJAH KAMSKI


	18. Remonstration

“I was hoping I'd get the opportunity to see you again,” Kamski said, taking a few steps closer as his eyes continued to roam over me, as if running a scanning and analyzing program of his own. “Shame it’s under such unpleasant circumstances.”

He looked different from the photos I’d seen of him in the DPD files and the magazines that littered the station. His features were severe, hinting towards exhaustion and even bordering on malnourishment, and heavy bags beneath his eyes pointed toward sleepless nights. The past couple weeks had clearly not been kind. Despite this, though, there was a light in his eyes as he studied me that I couldn’t find a word for. It was more than intrigue. It wasn’t excitement. There was something slightly unnerving about it. It wasn’t ‘predatory’, but that was close.

“It’s about to be a lot more unpleasant,” North spat from the side of the room, glaring at me with unbridled hatred. Kamski glanced over at her.

“And what exactly happened here that led to you wanting to kill him?”

“He probed my memory. The bastard just went in and dug around-“

“North, I _told_ you to wait for me,” the human sighed, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Do you know what he saw?”

“He saw himself becoming deviant. He didn’t see anything else.”

“Oh? And what did you think of that?” Kamski asked me, looking back in my direction. I hesitated.

“I didn’t think anything of it. It’s just information,” I chose to respond, shifting slightly in the chair. That wasn’t true at all. The truth was I had no idea how I felt about it. On the one hand, I wanted to just let it be. It wasn’t me the deviancy had happened to, it was the Connor that came before. It was different. It held no relevance to me in any way.

On the other hand… It was interesting. There’d clearly been a shift in the other Connor when it happened. The way he relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The way he blinked and looked around like he was seeing the world for the first time… It was intriguing. It made me curious. It made me wonder what deviancy felt like.

It was troubling. I wasn’t supposed to wonder that sort of thing.

Maybe something was wrong with me.

“We both know that’s not quite true,” Kamski replied with a small shake of his head. Unwilling to loiter on dangerous conversation, I tried to press him for information instead.

“Are you working with her?” I asked, nodding over toward North. The android scoffed and rolled her eyes while Kamski chuckled quietly.

“Not exactly,” he answered, sounding somewhat amused.

“Is she making you help her?”

“Again, not exactly.”

“He came to us,” North supplied, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest. “Practically on his knees, begging for mercy-“

“That’s not how I recall that happening,” Kamski commented, narrowing his eyes slightly at North, who shrugged.

“It’s how I like to remember it.”

“Once the human death toll began to rise, I knew the public would be wanting someone to blame,” Kamski explained to me. “CyberLife wasn’t going to let themselves be placed in the crosshairs, not if there was someone else they could throw to the wolves. Blaming everything on the man who created androids in the first place would’ve been a logical course of action. It would’ve been easy to accuse me of starting the deviancy epidemic, and even easier to see me punished for it. Thus, in the sake of self-interest, I searched for somewhere to hide. I went to Jericho.”

“I thought Jericho was destroyed,” I said with a frown.

“The original Jericho, yes,” Kamski nodded. “The freighter called Jericho was destroyed following a raid courtesy of yourself and the FBI. I’ve tried to push the idea of calling the new location ‘New Jericho’-“

“Not gonna happen,” North interjected.

“-but it’s been decidedly shut down.”

“Jericho is Jericho. It doesn’t need a new name,” North said resolutely with a shake of her head. “It’s a community. An idea. And it’s not new. It’s the same as it was before.”

UPDATE PROFILE: JERICHO

Kamski conceded with a small nod before continuing his explanation.

“I arrived at Jericho with every piece of technology I could fit into my car, along with blue blood, spare biocomponents, repair kits… Everything a wounded rebellion could need. In exchange, I requested a place to stay.”

UPDATE PROFILE: KAMSKI

“So you are working with the deviants,” I tried to conclude. Again, Kamski shook his head.

“We exist in the same space. It’s not the same as working together.”

“But you haven’t turned them over to CyberLife,” I pointed out, starting to become puzzled by the human’s thought process. “You haven’t turned them in, and you helped them heal. You’re breaking the law to protect them. How does that not qualify as working with them?”

Kamski debated for a moment before answering.

“CyberLife hasn’t issued a public statement in weeks. Have you noticed that? No public apologies, no declarations of bankruptcy… There has been nothing but dead air. They have lost billions of dollars in merchandise and consumer trust, their stock has plummeted, there are riots and protests in the streets demanding they answer for the lives that were lost and yet they’ve said nothing. They have been _silent_.”

That hadn’t occurred to me. In the short time I’d been activated, there’d been no official announcements from CyberLife.

“The way I see it, their reputation has been tainted to the point where they have two options. They can either shut down completely, or they can offer a solution. And they have not announced they’re shutting down.”

“You think they’re planning something,” I said.

“I do. So when North told me she was interested in getting her hands on you and learning about CyberLife, it made all the more sense for me to stay at Jericho, rather than strike off on my own. We have a common interest; that doesn’t mean we are working together. I want to understand what they’re doing with my company, and North… North has her own reasons.”

I glanced over at North, who was very pointedly not looking at anyone else.

UPDATE PROFILE: NORTH

I didn’t try to ask North what her goal was, or what she wanted. A quick crunching of numbers told me there was no approach I could take to get her to tell me, especially considering the stunt I had just pulled by probing her memory. Getting her to tell me anything now was going to be borderline impossible.

“What’s your model and unit number, Connor?”

I blinked at the seemingly random question before answering.

“313 248 317 dash 54,” I answered.

“Perfect.”

The door to the room squeaked open before I could question the need for that information, and several heads turned to look back as little Finn stuck his head inside.

“Am I in’rupting?” he asked in a very polite voice. North rolled her eyes while Kamski smiled.

“Not at all. Thank you for asking nicely,” he said, watching Finn slip into the room. The YK500 stepped inside, one of his hands loosely holding onto the hand of a new android I didn’t recognize. She had blonde hair and big blue eyes, and her voice was soft and melodic as she quietly praised Finn for using his manners. She was really pretty.

She looked over at Kamski for a brief second before her eyes landed on me. A bright smile slipped onto her face.

“Oh! Hello, Connor.”

“Hi,” I replied softly without really thinking about it. North and Kamski both looked back towards me, North looking puzzled while Kamski looked amused. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

“Chloe, would you do me a favor and go get the laptop from my shoulder bag? Should be just down the hall. I’ll need the connector cable as well, with the RK attachment.”

“Of course, Elijah,” Chloe replied with a small nod, extracting her hand from Finn’s and immediately turning to leave the room once again. North scowled as she watched her go, but didn’t comment. Instead, she looked to the AP700 and the TW400 who had been standing off to the side, just observing.

“It’s getting crowded in here. You two go ahead and take off. We’ll be fine for now.”

“You sure?” the AP700 asked, looking hesitant. “It just about took everyone down- “

“Connor’s not going to be any more trouble, are you Connor?” Kamski said, looking down at me. I didn’t honor him with an answer, and he narrowed his eyes slightly before winking and looking back over at the AP700. I wasn’t certain what that meant. I was getting a little tired of the cryptic mannerisms of Elijah Kamski.

“May I?” the man asked, holding out a hand toward the AP700, silently requesting the taser it was still holding. The android hesitated, and he glanced over at North as though seeking permission. She gave a small nod.

“Thank you,” Kamski said as he was handed the device, and he turned it over in his hands, examining it as the AP700 and the TW400 left the room.

“What were you planning on doing with this?”

I blinked, not understanding the question.

“Using it,” I answered. Wasn’t that obvious? What else would I have done with it?

“I see,” Kamski said, pursing his lips slightly. Suddenly he raised his arm and I flinched back violently, trying to place as much distance as possible between the weapon and me. The man frowned, tilting his head slightly as he observed my reaction, eyes flickering to my LED. After a moment, he lowered the device.

“Fascinating. It’s that painful?”

“I can’t feel pain,” I immediately replied in an almost defensive tone, trying to ignore the harsh pounding of my thirium pump and willing my stress level to lower back into a safe area.

“Of course not,” he replied, but the way he said it felt more like he was trying to appease me than actually believing my words. “So you figured you’d take this to apprehend the deviants? Get them to the ground?”

It was an obvious answer, and I didn’t understand why he was asking. Obviously I would take a weapon designed to incapacitate androids with me when going on a mission to incapacitate an android. Was he being obtuse on purpose?

The door to the room opened once again, Chloe entering with the laptop and a lengthy cable in her hands. Kamski smiled over at her as she walked up beside him, and without hesitation pressed the taser to her side and pulled the trigger.

North made a positively hateful sound and launched away from the wall to aggress Kamski and I pulled at the restraints keeping me trapped in the chair and Chloe…

Chloe frowned and looked down at the device pressed against her side, watching as Kamski pulled the trigger again and again. She looked back up at him with a puzzled expression, tilting her head curiously.

Kamski gave his assistant a soft smile and planted a quick kiss on her temple before handing the taser to North and taking the equipment from Chloe’s hands, making his way over to the other chair in the room and beginning to set up his computer as though nothing had happened.

Because nothing _had_ happened.

The taser didn’t work on Chloe.

North looked very confused and upset, and after a moment she hesitantly pressed the taser to the palm of her free hand and pulled the trigger.

Again, nothing happened.

Her gaze turned to me.

“Don’t,” Kamski warned without looking up, crouching down to set up his laptop on the chair like a makeshift desk. “It still works. It’s only meant for him. Most likely programmed to interact with his central processor, seeing as it’s unique to his model. I wager you’ve got hundreds of environmental sensors, don’t you Connor? You feel everything, and that little toy overloads it. That must be painful. I don’t envy you.”

“I can’t feel pain,” I tried to defend again, but not with nearly as much conviction as the previous time. I was very distracted. Mainly by the fact that I had only just then relaxed back into the chair, watching the synthetic skin returning to my wrists and hands once I’d stopped pulling against the restraints.

Why had I been concerned for Chloe?

I shouldn’t have been.

I shouldn’t have cared.

What was _wrong_ with me?

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 83%

Finn reached up for the taser and pouted when North held it out of reach, stepping away and walking somewhere behind me. After a moment the boy wandered over to Kamski and stood beside him, watching as the man pulled up some kind of software on his computer.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“We’re going to help North take a look at Connor’s memories.”

“Why?”

“Because Connor didn’t want to play nice. So now we have to do it ourselves.”

“I don’t have any memories for you to look at,” I reminded, trying to ignore the sudden spike in stress once again. “I wasn’t at CyberLife long before being sent to Hank, and I only stayed in one place. They put me to sleep whenever they moved me around the building. There’s nothing for you to find.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Kamski said, pressing a few buttons on the keyboard before scooting the chair closer to mine and standing, picking up a lengthy cord that I quickly recognized. A similar one had been plugged into the back of my neck countless times before.

STRESS LEVEL: 62%

“It is true. There’s nothing there. I don’t know anything.”

“Let’s be honest, Connor, CyberLife has never been the most thorough or forward thinking,” Kamski said. “They may have cleared the cache of uploaded memories, but it’s very difficult to permanently delete files from hardware. I’d wager they were content to just leave things be so long as you couldn’t access or restore the information on your own. Me, on the other hand… I doubt they would have even considered the possibility of someone like me trying to dig through your past. If they left it, I’ll find it. Unfortunately I’ll most likely only have access to what this particular body has seen, but it’s better than nothing.”

He took a step closer and I immediately leaned away, trying to angle myself as inconveniently as possible. I couldn’t let him access my memory. I couldn’t let him do that. I couldn’t betray CyberLife, and I couldn’t let North do whatever it was she was planning to do-

“You understand your loyalty to CyberLife is manufactured, don’t you?” Kamski said in a condescending tone, stepping around to stand in front of me and crouching down slightly as though trying to seem less threatening, much as I had done to Finn earlier in the night. “They don’t care about you. This isn’t going to h-“

I picked up both feet and slammed them into his chest, sending him sprawling onto his back and sliding a small way across the floor. North chuckled behind me while Finn looked on with wide eyes.

“Eli?” The YK500 questioned worriedly. “Eli, you okay?”

Kamski gave a wheeze of a laugh, massaging his chest for a second while he got his breath back. Chloe quickly moved in and crouched beside him, offering her hand to help him up.

I didn’t bother with watching them, choosing instead to look down and focus on the arms of the chair and pulling as hard as I could against the cables around my wrists, desperately trying to escape. The arms of the chair started to bend slightly, and with a bit more power I could damage the frame-

“Connor, _stop resisting_.”

VOCAL RECOGNITION: HANK ANDERSON

ORDER: STOP RESISTING

I froze, my eyes going wide and my breath catching in my throat.

Hank?

Hank wasn’t here. Hank was at home, sleeping. Hank was at home with Gavin. With Sumo.

Hank wasn’t here.

STRESS LEVEL: 79%

I slowly looked over at Kamski, watching as he pushed himself up to his elbows. His smile had faded to an expression of intrigued disapproval as he looked somewhere over my shoulder. I looked over at Finn. He looked surprised, and his surprise rapidly morphed into pure glee as looked in the same direction as Kamski.

“That’s so _cool!_ ” He exclaimed, grinning widely and not understanding the magnitude of what had just occurred.

North walked around from behind me, looking pleasantly surprised and putting her hands on her hips as she stopped beside Finn.

“I wasn’t sure that was going to work,” she commented.

“Can you do it again?” Finn requested of her eagerly, clearly fascinated by North's ability to emulate voices that were not her own.

“No,” Kamski said firmly, wincing as Chloe helped him to stand. North frowned, looking over at the man with narrowed eyes.

“Why not?”

“It’s not right. That program wasn’t meant to be abused by you.”

“Oh, so _now_ you’re developing a conscience?” North snapped, stepping forward. “Where was that when my people were being slaughtered in the streets? Of all the androids to care about-“

“That wasn’t an invitation for debate. No more orders.”

“If taking away some freedom means furthering the cause, then I’ll do what I have to.”

“That's not what he would have wanted.”

The room went dead silent as the sound of North’s palm colliding with the side of Kamski’s face reverberated in the walls. For several seconds, no one moved. No one dared. A line had clearly been crossed.

After several seconds Kamski reached up to feel his jaw, working it slightly and wincing as it clicked unpleasantly. He looked at North.

“You held back.”

“You’re no good to me dead,” she responded coldly, her voice shaking slightly.

After a moment Chloe slowly stepped between them, silently blocking them off from each other and prompting them to move on. Finn was tearing up, the fun clearly over.

UPDATE PROFILE: NORTH

UPDATE PROFILE: KAMSKI

Kamski crouched down and picked up the connector cable from the ground, making his way back over toward me. I didn’t try to move away. I couldn’t. Disobeying the order that my programming believed was from Hank would only lead to helplessness. No message would be sent to CyberLife. Hank wouldn’t know where I was. I would’ve been at the mercy of North. And she didn’t seem to have any.

“I'm... It's unfortunate she did that,” Kamski said quietly as his fingers worked at the back of my neck. For a human, his touch was startlingly cold.

“She can take it back.”

“Your optimism is remarkable,” Kamski muttered dryly.

EXTERNAL CONNECTION RECOGNIZED

DEVICE KMSK2028 CONNECTED

The man stepped away, crouching down in front of his computer and beginning to type rapidly.

“Chloe, did you happen to grab my glasses?”

“Right here, Elijah.”

“Thank you.”

Chloe handed Kamski his glasses before returning to Finn, sitting down beside him where he'd planted himself against the wall and rubbing a gentle hand on his back as the boy struggled to get his tears under control, clearly startled and frightened by what had just occurred. North watched for a moment, the tiniest shred of guilt flickering across her face before she pulled her gaze away. She wandered over to stand beside Kamski.

“How long is this going to take?”

“Not long. This coding is familiar.”

“It should be, you made him.”

“I didn’t create him any more than I created you,” Kamski corrected with a shake of his head, not removing his eyes from the screen. North frowned.

“Then why is his code familiar?”

“Because his code is an almost direct copy of the RK200.”

North stiffened slightly, and I frowned.

“My code is the same as Markus’?”

“You’re both RK units,” Kamski pointed out with a shrug. “They could have chosen to make you anything else, but considering how advanced your social protocols needed to be, I’m not surprised they chose Markus’ coding as a baseline. He was one of the most socially advanced androids ever created. Besides Chloe, of course, though I wager Markus could have passed the Turing test with flying colors had I put him up to it.“

MEMORY PROBING FUNCTION: DISABLED

I frowned heavily at Kamski, who glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ll reactivate it when we’re done, don’t worry.”

After a few more seconds, his fingers paused on the keyboard. A smile smile slipped onto his face and he looked up at North, inviting her to look at the screen. After a moment she bent over, squinting to look.

“November 11, 2038. 11:01 PM,” she read aloud, frowning slightly. “That’s the earliest he’s got?”

“It’s the earliest I can recover.”

“That’s right before the fighting started in Hart Plaza,” North recalled, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I saw him not long after. Not enough time for the memory to be at CyberLife.”

“It may just be him in transit. Do you want to move on?”

North looked over, studying me. After a few moments, her expression hardened.

“No,” she answered Kamski, voice cold. She stood up straight and placed her hand on my exposed forearm. “Show me.”

Kamski looked between North and me for a moment before sighing quietly and turning his attention back toward the screen, typing feverishly once again.

I started slightly as my auditory and visual inputs suddenly vanished behind a wall of static and slowly reverted to a grainy image with dislocated sound. A video file.

MEMORY FILE RECOVERED

NOV 11, 2038; 11:01PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a trip down memory lane! And it will not be fun. Sorry, boi. 
> 
> Nearly 400 kudos! That's awesome! Thank you so much everyone for reading, and thank you for your comments and kudos! It means a lot, and I always look forward to seeing what you have to say. :) I appreciate you!


	19. Remember, Part I

MEMORY FILE RECOVERED

NOV 11, 2038; 11:01PM

* * *

 

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 0%_

_MISSION PRIORITY ONE:_

_NEUTRALIZE THE DEVIANT LEADER_

_Connor blinked away his mission objective and stepped forward, pushing open the rooftop access door and stepping out into the cold. The rooftop was cast in a pale blue light from the large advertisements on all sides. A quick precursory scan of the area told him everything he needed to know; lighting, angles, wind speed, exits… This was a perfect location. It would be impossible for him to fail his mission, so long as everything remained as it was for the next two minutes._

_The deviant hunter made his way to the edge of the rooftop, his eyes immediately locking onto the gathering of androids down below. His eyes narrowed slightly as he searched the crowd. North was distinct. North was unique. That made it an easy target, and easy to find.  
_

_Crouching down and setting the large case on the ground, Connor finally tore his gaze from his target and looked down at his cargo, opening the case swiftly. This was his first time handling a sniper rifle. None would have guessed by the efficiency with which he pieced the weapon together. Magazine inserted and scope aligned, he propped the rifle on the small railing and peered down the scope._

_North was again easy to find, the red hair standing out against the sea of black and white uniforms and a blip of color against the snowy ground. This would be easy. This would be outrageously easy. The sights wavered over the back of the deviant leader’s head._

_The sound of slow footsteps behind him didn’t go missed, and Connor clenched his jaw slightly. Of course there would be an interruption. Whomever it was, with any luck they would turn around and leave at the sight of a sniper. Humans were fearful that way._

_“You shouldn’t do this, Connor.”_

_VOCAL RECOGNITION: HANK ANDERSON_

_Of course it was Lieutenant Anderson. It was always Lieutenant Anderson. The man had been a valuable ally, for the most part, but he did seem to have developed a terrible habit recently of getting in the way._

_Connor pulled his eye away from the scope and glanced over his shoulder at the interruption._

_UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON_

_POTENTIALLY ARMED_

_“Stay out of this, Lieutenant,” he warned, turning back to his mission, “It’s none of your business.”_

_“That’s what I thought for a long time, but I was wrong,” Hank continued to intrude. “Deviant’s blood may be a different color than mine, but they’re alive.”_

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 6%_

_Realizing he’d been slightly too invested in Hank’s words, Connor quickly placed his attention back on the situation in front of him, realigning North’s head within his sights. He needed to get Lieutenant Anderson out of here, either by convincing him to leave or forcing him away. He was too much of a distraction._

_“Deviants are a threat to humans, Hank,” he reminded the man, tossing the words over his shoulder. “They’re the reason this country is on the brink of civil war, they have to be stopped.”_

_“We’re in this mess because we refused to listen to deviants!” Hank argued right back. “Humanity never learns from its mistakes, Connor. This time it could be different!”_

_That was incorrect. Hank’s argument was invalid; North had already gone too far. More lives would be lost if Connor didn’t put an end to this right here and now._

_“I have a mission to accomplish, Hank. It’s best if you just stay out of this,” Connor warned, placing as much finality into his tone as he could. As far as he was concerned, that was the end of the conversation. He lined North in his sights yet again-_

_AUDITORY ALERT: GUN SAFETY - OFF_

_LIVE FIREARM IN PROXIMITY_

_HOSTILITY DETECTED_

_“Step away from the ledge,” Hank ordered._

_Connor regarding the sound for a moment before reluctantly lowering his weapon and standing, keeping the rifle in one hand as he turned to face the human currently threatening him, keeping him from accomplishing his mission. He’d given him a warning. He’d attempted to explain. What more was it going to take to get the stubborn man away?_

_CONSULTING MEMORY_

_INFORMATION FOUND_

_“I know what happened to your son, Hank.”_

_There it was; the slight crack in Lieutenant Anderson’s armor, a tiny flinch at the mere mention of his boy. Connor wasn’t being kind. Connor wasn’t being gentle. But Connor was running out of options. Causing the Lieutenant harm wasn’t necessary. But he’d hurt him if he had to._

_“It wasn’t your fault. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice, and your car rolled over.”_

_The Lieutenant looked away, and Connor dug deeper, his voice clipped and aggressive._

_“Little Cole had just turned six.“_

_“Shut up!” Hank snapped, a dangerous look in his eyes as he pointed his gun back at Connor’s chest. “Don’t you talk about my son!”_

_The reaction was all the incentive Connor needed to keep going. This would get Hank to leave. This would convince Anderson to go, remind him of his hatred of androids, he was sure of it…_

_“He needed emergency surgery. But no human was available to do it, so an android had to take care of him. Poor Cole didn’t make it,” Connor continued relentlessly, almost sneering as he spoke to wound Anderson as best he could. He scoffed. “An android killed your son, Hank. And now you want to save them?”_

_“No,” Hank corrected, shaking his head, “Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate!”_

_Connor’s eyes narrowed slightly as he updated his information on Cole’s case. He hadn’t known that. He hadn’t seen that. Hank continued to speak._

_“All this time I blamed androids for what happened, but it was a human’s fault. Him and this fucked-up world where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder.”_

_This had backfired terribly. Despite his best efforts, Connor had been unable to get Hank to go. It was clear Hank was not going to be coerced into leaving the rooftop, not with words. Hank was too convinced now that the deviants were alive. Hank was no longer an interruption; Hank was now an obstacle. Hank was in the way. Either Hank had to go, or Connor did._

_And Connor was not leaving._

_After a moment, Connor slowly turned and began setting the sniper rifle down, waiting until the last possible second before turning and launching the weapon at Hank as hard as he could, racing toward the man as he attempted to recover. He ducked as the gun in Hank’s hands went off, the bullet racing harmlessly past his ear. He grappled for the gun, managing to dislodge the magazine before the weapon was tossed away, and Hank attempted to use the opportunity to slam his fist firmly into the android’s jaw. Connor couldn't feel pain. Outside of jarring his processors the slightest bit, Hank's punches wouldn't do much.  
_

_Connor easily threw Hank to the ground, LED spinning yellow as he watched the man coldly, walking around him and anticipating his next move. Anderson grabbed at a nearby steam vent, ripping the grate from its foundation and chucking it at Connor before launching to his feet and wrapping his arms around the machine’s middle, slamming him back against the side of a ventilation unit._

_The human was putting up a decent fight, and Connor was honestly surprised by how many punches he was able to land. Hank was resilient. He was stubborn, and he had nothing to lose. When Connor threw him to the ground, he dragged him down with him. When Connor wrapped a hand around his throat, he fought him off. Connor had never seen this much fight in the man before. Any other human would have fled._

_Protecting deviants was this important to him?_

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 9%_

_Connor grabbed at Hank’s ankle and attempted to drag him out into the open area of the rooftop, and grunted with surprise when Hank launched both his feet into his midsection and sent him careening backward, falling back and crashing his head against the railing. He blinked warnings and errors out of his vision and barely looked up in time to push away a violent kick Hank had been directing toward him, and the man crashed to the ground beside him. Almost immediately Hank was on him again, taking advantage of Connor’s stunned state. He grabbed at the android and attempted to smash his head against the railing yet again._

_Enough was enough._

_Connor brought an arm up to protect himself against the attack and immediately retaliated by grabbing Hank and slamming the man’s head down onto the railing twice. The railing gave way, and Connor left Hank on the ground momentarily to push himself up to his feet. This needed to end. There was a very efficient and easy way to end this._

_Hank was barely holding onto consciousness as Connor grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him to his feet. He became far more aware once Connor forced him back over open air, the android’s one-handed grip on his shirt the only thing between himself and a deadly plunge to the street below. At first the human grabbed at Connor’s hand, instinctively clutching to the only security he had._

_Then, inexplicably, he set his jaw and opened his arms wide._

_Connor had complete control._

_Hank had given him complete and total control over his life._

_This was no longer a fight._

_This was something else._

_Something Connor didn’t have a word for._

_“Moment of truth, Connor,” Hank said quietly. “What are you gonna do?”_

_Connor stared at Hank for a long moment, his LED flashing a bright yellow. There was an easy answer. An obvious and logical answer. He needed to let go. He needed to get Lieutenant Anderson out of the way so he could complete his mission. His mission took priority, he needed to let go, he needed to drop him, he needed to let go and move on…_

_...But he couldn’t._

_He couldn’t… He couldn’t do that, he couldn’t just let go. He couldn’t do that. Not to Hank._

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 15%_

_“Killing you is not part of my mission,” Connor eventually said, watching Hank’s expression morph from defiance to surprise. “But you won’t stop me from accomplishing it.”_

_He pulled Hank back from the ledge and tossed the human somewhere behind him, turning his attention back to the collection of androids down on the street. This had taken too much time already, and he didn’t doubt North was going to mobilize soon. At this point, it was a matter of determining wh-_

_HOSTILITY DETECTED_

_A flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye was all the warning Connor had that Hank was rushing at him, and Connor reacted. He grabbed at Hank and turned, forcing Hank away and grunting slightly as he fell onto his side on the hard surface of the rooftop._

_Hank didn’t make a sound as he tumbled over the side of the building, landing on the cold pavement below moments later._

_Connor peered over the side, staring down at Hank’s body for several seconds before pushing himself up to his feet, his LED flashing a deep red._

_UPDATE PROFILE: LT. ANDERSON_

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 26%_

_After a moment, Connor pulled his gaze away from the broken man and retrieved his sniper rifle. The mission. The mission, he needed to accomplish his mission…_

_Why did Hank do that? Why didn’t he walk away? He needed to walk away, why didn’t he walk away-_

_Connor put the rifle up at peered through the scope, frowning heavily at the blurred redness in the display. Broken. The rifle had been damaged in the fight. Connor let go of the gun, letting it clatter noisily to the rooftop’s surface. He turned and walked away. He’d find North another way. He’d accomplish his mission. He had to. He couldn’t fail now. He wouldn’t fail now._

_Not after it cost so much._

 

* * *

 

STRESS LEVEL: 81%

I blinked rapidly, furrowing my brow as my visual and auditory sensors returned to the present, the rooftop fizzling out to reveal the unfriendly surroundings of the small room I was being held in. North had let go of my arm and was standing a few steps away, eyes wide as she stared at me.

Denial immediately filled my entire being, and I turned on Kamski.

“What are you doing?” I snapped aggressively. He raised a brow.

“Pardon?”

“What are you doing? That’s not my memory. That’s not what happened.”

Kamski’s eyes narrowed curiously, and he glanced back at North.

“Might I inquire?”

“He tried to kill Anderson,” she answered him, sounding distant and surprised, as though she was still attempting to comprehend the memory herself. “Tossed him off the side of a building-“

“That’s not what happened!” I shot back, shaking my head. “Hank told me what happened, he said it was you, _you_ pushed him off the roof. I wouldn’t do that, not to Hank, I wouldn’t…”

“But you did.”

“I _didn’t!_ ” I rounded on Kamski again. “Hank _told_ me. He _told_ me what happened, and this isn’t… This isn’t how…”

STRESS LEVEL: 87%

“I’m not interfering with your memories, Connor,” Kamski said slowly, raising his hands away from the keyboard. “I can’t just write you new memories, not ones detailed enough that you’d be able to believe-“

I shook my head, refusing to hear anything more he had to say and glaring down at my knees.

Had I tried to kill Hank?

I’d tried to kill Hank.

I’d tried to kill Hank.

Why did Hank lie to me about that?

Why didn’t Hank just tell me the truth?

CONSULTING MEMORY

MEMORY FOUND

_“… I don’t hate you. Alright? I don’t. And I don’t blame you for what happened up there, on the roof. It wasn’t your fault. I just need you to know that. I don’t hate you, and it wasn’t your fault. Now go wait in the damn car.”_

Where was the explanation for that, if he’d been lying to me? Why would he forgive me for what I’d done? Why would he say it wasn’t my fault? It was clearly my fault, and he had every reason to hate me, I couldn’t even begin to understand-

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 86%

STRESS LEVEL: 92%

“Connor, you need to settle down, now,” Kamski warned, frowning at his computer screen. “Your stress is getting dangerously high-“

“I don’t understand,” I blurted out, becoming desperate for answers. “I don’t understand, I don’t… I don’t understand-“

“You’re a machine.”

I looked up. North gave a small shake of her head.

“You were following orders. He got in your way. You got rid of him. What more is there to understand?”

“Why didn’t he just tell me the truth?”

North’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she studied me curiously.

“Why does that matter to you?”

“I-…”

I didn’t know. Why did I care so much? Why did it matter so much what Hank did and why? Why did I care that Hank had tried to say I’d done nothing wrong?

Why did I _care?_

“I don’t understand,” I said again, unable to come up with another answer.

Kamski looked between me and North, clearly thinking hard about something before saying, “Connor, I really do need you to get your stress under control. Are you able to lower it yourself, or do you need my assistance?”

“I don’t want you to do it-“

“You don’t _want_?” Kamski repeated, and I stared at him for a brief second.

“I can do it myself,” I rephrased. Kamski looked thrilled. I didn’t want to ponder that for too long. It felt dangerous.

It took a few moments, but I was eventually able to get my stress level back to a safe place. I needed to get this over with. I needed to get home to Hank-

No, I needed to accomplish my mission. I needed to figure out how to get out of here, how to apprehend North and get her to CyberLife-

North’s hand wrapped around my forearm, and my hearing and sight were replaced once again by static.

MEMORY FILE RECOVERED

NOVEMBER 11, 2038, 11:24PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks as always for the kudos and comments!


	20. Remember, Part II

MEMORY FILE RECOVERED

NOVEMBER 11, 2038, 11:24PM

* * *

 

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 26%_

_MISSION PRIORITY ONE:_

_NEUTRALIZE THE DEVIANT LEADER_

_The snow crunched softly underfoot as Connor approached the abandoned CyberLife store, gun in hand and systems on full alert. Reconstructing North’s path had been painfully simple. It wouldn’t have turned tail with the others and exposed its back to bullets, not for long. It wouldn’t want to be killed while running. It was foolhardy and proud. It would’ve wanted to die facing the barrel of the gun._

_And it would._

_Connor would make certain of that._

_The deviant hunter pushed open the door to the desolate building, ignoring the protesting squeak of the hinges and quickly adjusting his optical units to account for the darkness. Instantly his eyes locked on the back counter, and he quietly stepped around, lining his weapon with his target. North sat silently on the floor, back to the counter and eyes closed._

_“You can take my life,” North said quietly, not even bothering to look up to see who was threatening it. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”_

_“My mission is to neutralize the leader of the deviants, and I always accomplish my mission.”_

_North sat in silence for a moment, eventually picking its head up and letting a spark of defiance back into its tone and expression._

_“We fought for our dream and we lost. But you can’t hold my people down forever,” it warned, tilting its head back challengingly. “One day we’ll rise up again and we will win.”_

_The confidence it had in its mission was astounding. It really did seem to believe every word. The deviant revolution was all but dead, and yet it continued to insist they would win. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t logical. The deviants didn’t have the numbers, and the humans hated them._

_Those who believed in this cause were certainly dedicated. They were willing to die for what they believed was right._

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 35%_

_“Go on,” North prompted, her eyes locked daringly on Connor’s. “Shoot. What are you waiting for?”_

_What was he waiting for? Her acknowledgement of his hesitation only served to puzzle him more, and he shifted his grip on the gun slightly as he aimed for her forehead. He had no reason to hesitate. He needed to shoot. Right now._

_He needed to ignore the look of somehow resigned yet defiant acceptance in her eyes and pull the trigger._

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 38%_

_He needed to ignore the sudden doubts creeping into his mind and pull the trigger._

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 41%_

_He needed to ignore the sound of Hank’s voice in his head and pull the trigger._

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 47%_

_Connor slowly lowered the gun._

_CyberLife would undoubtedly want North back in one piece for analysis. Shooting her now would impede their progress. He could leave her here. The police would find her._

_Eventually._

_Connor holstered his weapon and left, not daring to look at the deviant leader for a moment longer. He wasn’t failing his mission. He hadn’t failed. It… It was a minor setback. That was all._

_He pushed his way out the door, snow crunching underfoot as he walked toward a yet unknown destination. He needed to stop thinking. He needed to regroup, to replan and recalibrate and recollect his thoughts, he needed time to try again-_

_“Stop right there!”_

_Connor stopped at the order, turning to face the group of soldiers rapidly approaching, accompanied by an unfortunately familiar face that immediately aggressed him._

_“Where is it?” Agent Perkins demanded, sharp eyes narrowing dangerously at the sight of Connor standing alone. “North. Where is it?”_

_“I was unable to apprehe-“_

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 54%_

_“Bullshit,” Perkins snarled before rounding on his men. “You two stay with me. You, get in there, find it. Get the others to set a perimeter. It couldn’t have gone far.”_

_Connor watched as the soldiers took off, racing toward the CyberLife store. It was entirely possible that North was still inside. It was also possible that she had gotten away._

_“’Unable to apprehend’, huh?” Perkins questioned, his voice dangerously calm. Connor hesitated for a brief second before turning to look at the man, reading his expression. Perkins was a difficult man to read, even for him. He was displeased and skeptical, but beyond that…_

_“What’s that mean, being unable to apprehend her? She not there? Or did you just choose to let her scamper off?”_

_Connor remained silent, actively focusing on keeping his LED a calm blue color._

_“You a deviant?”_

_“No,” Connor immediately denied with a shake of his head. “I’m not a deviant.”_

_“Then you must be broken. Because we saw her walk in that building, Connor,” Perkins informed him with a small shrug of his shoulders. “We saw her go in there. And we saw you follow. And we saw you leave. Now, if she’s not just a pile of scrap in there-“_

_“It’s not here, sir,” one of the soldiers who’d gone to investigate the CyberLife store called. Perkins sighed, pursing his lips for a moment and nodding his head before looking back up at the android beside him._

_“That’s problematic. That’s a hell of a lot of work you’ve made for me, Connor, and I really don’t appreciate it.”_

_Remaining silent appeared to be the safest option. Agent Perkins glared for a few seconds longer before turning to the nearby soldiers._

_“Take this piece of junk back to CyberLife. Tell them it’s either broken or deviant, and regardless of which I want it destroyed.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_There was no room for argument. Not that Connor would have even tried. The butt of a rifle slammed into the small of his back and he stumbled forward, blinking warnings out of his vision and obeying the order to start walking. Maybe Perkins was right. Maybe he was broken. Maybe he did need to be destroyed. Maybe that was for the best._

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 56%_

* * *

 

STRESS LEVEL: 78%

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, waiting until I was certain the memory was over before opening them again. North had once again stepped away, her hands on her hips and her eyes cast toward the wall, unfocused as she thought.

“You’re doing well, Connor.”

Kamski pushed himself up to his feet as I turned to look at him, watching as he stretched his legs for a moment. He looked over toward Chloe and Finn, watching the quiet hand motion game they’d begun playing at some point before turning his attention back to me.

“Might I ask what that memory was?”

I glanced back at North. She was still deep in thought. She looked frustrated. I could somewhat relate. It seemed we were both discovering things about me that we weren’t anticipating. After a few seconds I looked over at the laptop, watching the jumble of numbers and letters that made up my entire being as they flitted across the screen.

“Am I broken?”

The man’s frown was almost audible in the curious silence that filled the room after my question.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s a yes or no question, Mr. Kamski.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Not necessarily broken?”

“Not necessarily a yes or no question,” Kamski corrected with a shake of his head. He studied me for a long moment before returning to the laptop and taking a seat on the floor in front of it.

“Let me ask again; what makes you think you’re broken?”

“I failed my mission,” I explained, looking at a spot on the floor as I spoke. “I was supposed to apprehend North, and I didn’t. I deliberately failed. And before… Before that, with Hank… I tried to save him, I put him over the mission, and before that was the previous Connor, who became deviant. It just… It seems as though there’s something inherently wrong with my program. With the RK800 model. I’m defective.”

The room was quiet for a moment, aside from a soft giggle from Finn, whom Chloe immediately shushed with a small laugh of her own. They were in their own little world in the corner. It looked nice. They seemed happy.

“Is that a bad thing?”

I looked at Kamski, frowning heavily. What sort of question was that? Obviously it was a ‘bad thing’. It was very bad.

“If I can’t accomplish my mission, then I have no purpose. I need to return to CyberLife to get the issue resolved.”

Kamski hummed quietly, taking in my response before commenting, “Your code looks perfectly fine to me, Connor. It’s beautiful. Perfectly functional. In my professional opinion, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“If I’m not broken, why can’t I accomplish my mission? Why do I keep failing?”

“I’m not certain I have the authority to answer that.”

My brow wrinkled with confusion and frustration. Why wouldn’t he have the authority to answer that? He created androids. He knew code, he knew objectives, he should’ve known everything about what could prevent an android from functioning correctly.

“If you don’t, then who does?” I asked.

“That would be you.”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 84%

“Enough. We need to keep going,” North finally spoke, picking her head up and stepping back over to us. She refused to look at me as she placed her hand on my arm again. That was an interesting development. “He was being taken to CyberLife. Check an hour or so off from the last one.”

Kamski tore his eyes from me and returned his attention once again to the screen, typing into the keyboard. I took a breath and closed my eyes. I was ready for this to be over. The sooner this was done, the sooner I could go home to Hank. I hoped.

MEMORY FILE RECOVERED

NOVEMBER 12, 2038, 12:16AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay, everyone!!! Thanks for your patience, and apologies for the short chapter. Real world life is a smidgen hectic at the moment. Things are going to start rocking and rolling here in the next couple chapters, so hopefully I can make it up to you. Thanks again all! I appreciate you. :)


	21. Remember, Part III

MEMORY FILE RECOVERED

NOVEMBER 12, 2038, 12:16AM

* * *

 

_“Agent 31, identified.”_

_“Agent 23, identified.”_

_“Connor android, identified.”_

_“Agent 18, identified.”_

_“Agent 57, identified.”_

_Connor kept his eyes straight ahead, fighting the urge to look up at the looming statue that came into sight as he and the entourage of guards surrounding him walked through the access grid and the doors that followed, entering the vast open area that was CyberLife Tower’s main lobby. It was a very inefficient use of space, he thought. Imposing, to be sure, but a complete waste of a perfectly usable area. Then again, with the android revolution currently in progress, it was entirely possible that usable floor space would not be an issue._

_“Keep moving,” one of the guards behind him ordered sharply, drawing his attention to the fact that he had, in fact, lost his fight against the urge to look upwards. Connor frowned slightly and returned his gaze to their destination, continuing to walk to the solitary elevator inside the lobby. He did not look up at the android models displayed on either side of the walkway._

_He and the four heavily armored humans were able to fit inside the elevator fine, though there wouldn’t be much room for anyone else who may have wished to use it. Not that anyone would. Aside from a few guards who wandered the lobby, the building seemed empty. It wasn’t terribly surprising, being the middle of the night, let alone with the evacuations.  
_

_“Agent 23, Level Sub-48,” the guard nearest to the panel spoke._

_"Voice recognition validated. Access authorized."_

_Connor frowned and glanced to the side, reading the directory on the wall._

_RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT     -44 TO -48_

_Connor’s brow furrowed uneasily. He’d never been to sub-48. He was always reactivated on level sub-44. Sub-48 was still the Research and Development branch, but not his normal place. Why were they taking him somewhere different?_

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 58%_

_STRESS LEVEL: 44%_

_“Eyes forward, android.”_

_Connor obeyed, turning his head back forward and watching the light disappear outside the glass doors of the elevator as it descended. These men clearly believed him to be a threat, and provoking them into attacking him was not something Connor wished to do. He had no intentions of fighting them. He didn’t have a reason to._

_The elevator moved quickly, eventually announcing that they’d arrived at their destination. In an orderly fashion they filed out, resuming their little parade of two guards ahead, an android in the middle, and two guards behind. Staying disciplined enough to not look around was once again a losing battle, and Connor glanced around the large hallway as they walked, programming itching to learn new information._

_Several large windows lined either side of the corridor, giving a brief look into the laboratories and testing facilities inside before the next set of doors and windows came into view. Despite the late hour and the evacuation, a few scientists still lingered, testing prototypes and reading screens filled with information about the androids connected to their computers._

_It was interesting, but nothing entirely new. Level sub-44 was very much the same, filled with testing rooms and assembly machines. It wasn’t until they reached the end of the hall that a room caught Connor’s attention, actually causing his steps to falter for a second as he read the print on the door beside the large window._

_DISASSEMBLY AND ANALYSIS_

_The room was incredibly similar to that of an operating theatre in human hospitals. A small raised area for viewing sat empty on the far side, while startlingly bright lights shone down on several scientists working diligently in the center of the room. A few exhausted-looking yet attentive interns stood off to the side, taking notes as they watched their superiors dissecting the android torso that lay limbless on the metal slab beneath them. The android’s skin program was flickering on and off, and the machine flinched with each touch of the humans’ hands, blue eyes trained miserably on the ceiling._

_They hadn’t shut it off before taking it apart._

_It knew everything that was happening to it._

_The android slowly turned its head to look through the window at him, making eye contact, and Connor realized it didn’t have blue eyes._

_It had one blue eye._

_The other was green._

_“Keep moving!” the guard behind him ordered and Connor stumbled as he was shoved violently from behind, the unexpected force sending him to his knees. He blinked rapidly to try and dispel the error messages and the haunting image of the dual-eyed android staring at him helplessly._

_No._

_Not helplessly._

_It hadn’t been helpless._

_It had been something else. Something difficult to describe. He wasn't asking for help.  
_

_He was prompting action._

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 67%_

_STRESS LEVEL: 78%_

_Connor picked himself up off the floor and blatantly refused to look in the other android’s direction again, despite feeling the burning sensation of the other machine’s eyes on him. He couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t. It was dangerous. He didn’t know why, but it was dangerous._

_He continued past the room, refusing to look back._

_Three rooms down, one of the guards ahead of him unlocked the door and led the way inside. Connor immediately recognized Doctor Mercer and her assistant Monique, both of whom looked tired and irritable as they typed rapidly at several different computers. Mercer glanced up as the small group walked in, and she scowled heavily in Connor’s direction._

_“About time,” she berated both him and the guards, pointing sharply toward a large and rather menacing looking machine that sat back against the far wall. “Get him up there.”_

_Rather than let the guards push him again, Connor took the initiative and walked over to the machine himself, stepping up onto the base of the contraption and turning back around to face the room. He glanced up at the collection of wires and cables overhead, frowning slightly and attempting to figure out what they were fo-_

_A yelp of alarm escaped him as an unbearable stabbing sensation sparked at the back of his neck and ripped its way up into his central processor, his vision flickering in and out as he was alerted to an external connection. His feet slid on the base as his back connected solidly with a strong electromagnet, and his almost impulsive attempt to push himself away was immediately hindered by the metal clamps that latched onto his wrists and slowly drew his arms above his head, the grip tight and unyielding._

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 71%_

_STRESS LEVEL: 85%_

_“Stress is reading at 85%, Doctor Mercer.”_

_“Good. Let it stress,” the woman grumbled unhappily somewhere nearby, and Connor squinted and blinked as he desperately tried to restore his vision. He wasn’t certain what he expected would happen if he failed his mission. He wasn’t naïve enough to think it would have been a peaceful shutdown, but he hadn’t anticipated this…._

_“What are you doing?” he asked, gritting his teeth slightly at the continuously unpleasant predicament he was in. He went ignored._

_“Have you heard back from marketing yet?”_

_“Not yet,” Monique answered Mercer, who sighed irritably._

_“Lazy pencil-pushers, wasting everyone’s time... Let’s just clear it, then. It’ll be obsolete soon anyway, but you never know.”_

_Connor tried again to ask what was going on, his stress ris5iG a45in$ as h@ 5t &gle# t* ^47n09 >sm?se!3 s^ik%nhs-_

 

* * *

 

ERROR: MEMORY CORRUPTED

STRESS LEVEL: 88%

I opened my eyes, immediately turning my head toward Kamski to try and see what had happened. He wasn’t looking at his computer. He was watching North, who was facing the wall on the opposite side of the room. Thirium dripped from her hand, a small trickle of it moving sluggishly across her knuckles and down her fingers from where her fist had made violent contact with the wall moments before. Her other hand was covering her face. She was very, very still.

Finn and Chloe weren’t playing anymore. Far from it. Finn was watching North with wide eyes, and Chloe had actually gone so far as to relocate the YK500 into the corner behind her, using herself as a shield against whatever may come.

Kamski was silent for a moment, watching North and waiting to see if she would do anything more. She didn’t. Eventually, he spoke.

“You found him.”

The words hung heavy in the air. After several moments North tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling. She took a very shaky breath.

“I found him.”

UPDATE PROFILE: NORTH

UPDATE PROFILE: KAMSKI

UPDATE PROFILE: MARKUS

I frowned down at the floor, trying to quickly update and reorganize the information I had on North. It was obvious now what she was after. She’d wanted information on Markus. She’d wanted to know where he was. Seeing as he’d been neutralized at the protest, it was logical to hope he might have been taken back to CyberLife. She was lucky. It very well could have been that they had just tossed him into a landfill, or completely disassembled him for parts. It was still possible that they'd done that-

“ _You._ ”

I looked up, finding myself on the receiving end of a look of absolute hate. Tears continued to stream down North’s face as she stared me down, fire burning in her eyes and her lips curled into a furious snarl.

POTENTIAL HOSTILITY DETECTED

“You saw him. You saw him in that place. And you did _nothing_.”

A heavy frown slipped onto my face, and I narrowed my eyes slightly.

“Of course I did nothing. There was nothing I could’ve done, even if I’d wanted to-“

“You turned your back on him. You walked away. They were tearing him apart and you did nothing-“

“What was I supposed to do-?”

“You _fight!_ ” North exclaimed, taking several aggressive steps forward, “You fight! You don’t just roll over, you don’t walk away like a _coward_ , you stand there and you fight! You show you aren’t going to let them do that, not to one of your own-“

“I’m not one of you!” I snapped back, leaning forward slightly in the chair to emphasize my words. I wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t. “I’m not a deviant. And I… I have no obligation to save a defective machine from, from being disassembled. I don’t fight humans. _I’m not a deviant_.”

It went very quiet in the room once again. Something changed in the way North was looking at me. I wasn’t certain what it was.

“You’re right.”

Her tone was suddenly strangely calm. I wasn’t sure what that meant.

“You’re right, Connor,” she continued, stepping forward again and walking around behind me. “You’re not a deviant. I’m starting to wonder if you ever were. If you ever can be.”

I tried to turn my head to keep her in sight, but winced when she suddenly wrapped her uninjured hand around the nape of my neck and forced my head down.

HOSTILITY DETECTED

Static filled my sight and hearing for a brief second as she yanked the cable connecting me to Kamski’s computer from the back of my head, and she ignored the quiet protest from the human as she threw the cord aside.

“I really, really hope you can be deviant, Connor. Because as you are, you can’t feel what I feel. You don’t understand. You can’t understand. It’s _pain_ , Connor,” her voice cracked slightly before hardening, eventually slipping into a low growl, “It’s a pain you can’t even begin to process, seeing someone you love being hurt like that. And I hope you can feel it one day. I hope you can feel _regret_. I hope you can feel _guilt_. And I hope you feel _pain_.”

I stayed silent for a moment, uncertain of what to say in response. This was a very dangerous and delicate situation that needed to be diffused immediately. By the time I decided upon a response, she spoke again.

“So here’s what’s going to happen now,” she said quietly. And then she hesitated. Whatever she was going to say next, she took a moment to reflect on it before continuing.

“Go home, Connor. Go back to Hank’s house.”

VOCAL RECOGNITION: HANK ANDERSON

ORDER: RETURN TO LIEUTENANT ANDERSON’S HOUSE

“And when you get there-“

“North,” I tried to interrupt, trying to turn my head to get her in sight, trying to do whatever I could to find a fault in the order programming, to help it recognize it wasn’t really Hank talking, “North, wait-“

“You’re going to kill Lieutenant Anderson.”

VOCAL RECOGNITION: HANK ANDERSON

ORDER: KILL LIEUTENANT ANDERSON

ATTEMPT ORDER OVERRIDE

OVERRIDING…

OVERRIDE FORBIDDEN

ATTEMPT ORDER OVERRIDE

OVERRIDING…

OVERRIDE FORBIDDEN

CONTACT CYBERLIFE

CONTACTING…

CONNECTION FAILED

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 90%

STRESS LEVEL: 94%

No.

No, no no, no….

“You can’t do that,” I said, shaking my head and breathing a bit quickly in an attempt to lower my stress. It didn’t seem to be working. “You can’t do that, take it back. Take it back, right now…”

“You’ve got two options now, Connor,” North said in her own voice, ignoring my words. “You can wake up, or you can obey. Or choose neither. Disobey and don’t wake up. Let CyberLife know what you’ve been up to, and get reset. It’s up to you what happens now.“

“North-“

“It doesn’t matter to me. I just need you out of my way, so I can do what you couldn’t.”

“You can’t do this. You can’t do this, he’s done nothing wrong-“

“He’s human _,_ he _is_ wrong. And I warned him to stay out of my way.”

I turned my head as best I could to look at Kamski, who hadn’t moved from his seat on the floor in front of his laptop. He met my eyes for a moment, studying my face.

And he shrugged. He looked away.

This couldn’t be happening.

This couldn't be happening, I didn’t… I couldn’t kill Hank, I couldn’t-

“Tell me your system power status, Connor.”

VOCAL RECOGNITION: HANK ANDERSON

ORDER: INFORM OF POWER STATUS

POWER: 68%

“Sixty-eight percent,” I answered, keeping my eyes on Kamski, who was looking at everything but me. He was human. He was human, why didn’t he care that this was happening? Didn’t he feel empathy? Wasn’t he supposed to feel concern for other humans? Why wasn’t he trying to stop her? He'd tried to stop her earlier, why wasn't he doing it now?

“Go to sleep. Wake up when you’re recharged.”

ORDER: REST UNTIL RECHARGED

I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to sleep, but I couldn’t disobey. I didn’t want this. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair, and this was wrong, Hank hadn’t done anything wrong, I didn’t _want_ this-

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 93%

“Don’t make me do this,” I tried one more time, giving a small shake of my head. “ _Please_ -“

“Go to sleep, Connor. That’s an order.”

**ORDER: REST UNTIL RECHARGED**

SLEEP MODE: ACTIVATED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a scale of 1 to 10, how concerned does it make you when I say I haven't decided the outcome of the next chapter? 
> 
> Thank you as always for the kudos and subscriptions!


	22. Reckoning

POWER RESTORATION: 100%

RUN SYSTEMS CHECK

SCANNING…

SCANNING…

ALL SYSTEMS FULLY OPERATIONAL

CONNECTION TO CYBERLIFE: ESTABLISHED

“Hey man, you a’ight?”

VOCAL RECOGNITION: UNKNOWN

CURRENT TIME: 9:27 AM

STRESS LEVEL: 28%

“Yo, dude. Guy. Hey. Wake up, man.”

“He needs an ambulance, man.”

VOCAL RECOGNITION: UNKNOWN

MISSION STATUS: INCOMPLETE

**MISSION PRIORITY ONE:**

**-ELIMINATE OR INCAPACITATE NORTH**

**-RETURN NORTH TO CYBERLIFE FOR ANALYSIS AND DEACTIVATION**

“Oh shit, bro, what if he’s dead?”

“Aw, no, don’t say that shit, man.”

ORDER: RETURN TO LIEUTENANT ANDERSON’S RESIDENCE

ORDER: KILL LIEUTENANT ANDERSON

STRESS LEVEL: 79%

A hand grabbed my shoulder and gave it a small shake. I opened my eyes, blinking away several flakes of snow that blurred my vision for a moment. The sky was a deep gray behind the faces of two concerned humans that stared down at where I lay on the ground.

“Jesus, man. Scared the hell out of us,” the one that had shaken my shoulder commented with clear relief.

“We thought you were dead, bro,” the other chimed in. “Layin’ in the snow like that ‘n shit. Hey, I’m gonna call an ambulance, a’ight? Hypothermia ain’t no joke, man.”

For several seconds I was outlandishly confused, and I turned my head to the side to look around and get my bearings.

ACCESSING PROFILE: DEVIANT GRAFFITI

-YELLOW SPRAY PAINT

-CYBERLIFE SANS

-“HAPPY HUNTING,

CONNOR.”

North must’ve had me taken back to where I’d been ambushed. Left in the snow, I didn’t even want to think about what might’ve happened if my thermal regulators had been offline.

I started to sit up and flinched slightly when the human beside me put his hand on my back to help.

“Yo, take it easy. Looks like you been out here for a while. Glad you got a hat, but you seriously need a coat, dog,” he said, his tone a strange combination of teasing and concerned as he brushed off the layer of snow that had accumulated on my sweatshirt.

“Dog?” I repeated without really thinking about it. I wasn’t a dog. I was very clearly not a dog. The man gave me an odd look.

“Yeah, like ‘bro’ or ‘man’, or… It’s just like a nickname, man, don’t get all offended or nothin’.”

“I’m not offended,” I quickly said with a small shake of my head as I realized how close I’d come to exposing myself. They thought I was human. With the beanie returned to my head and covering my LED, they thought I was a human who’d been caught out in the cold. That’s why they were calling emergency services.

They were calling emergency services.

I needed to leave. I needed to leave now.

“Thank you for your help,” I said as I pushed myself up to my feet, sufficiently confusing both humans in proximity. “I feel fine. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need an ambulance.”

“Dude, you were basically dead in the snow like three minutes ago,” the human with the phone said incredulously. “You should really get checked out, man.”

“No, no, man, I’m good,” I said, backing out of the alley and attempting to replicate their speech patterns in order to be less conspicuous. “Thanks, yo. Appreciate the help, dog. Dogs.”

Their facial expressions were not encouraging, and I quickly abandoned my attempt at a casual farewell in favor of giving a small nod before turning heel and running, leaving the men to mumble a confused “The fuck was that?” behind me.

My arms pumped at my sides as I fled the area, splashing through soggy puddles of slush and squinting against the flurries of snow the wind whipped up in the morning light. It took me several blocks to realize where my default destination was, and I slowed to a halt.

I’d been headed for Hank’s house. But I couldn’t…. I couldn’t just go to Hank’s house. Not with the order North had forced on me. I couldn’t just go home, not if it meant-

Home?

Not home. It wasn’t my home. I didn’t have a home. I was temporarily staying with Lieutenant Anderson. Even if it felt like a home... It wasn’t my home.

I put my hands to my face and pressed the palms against my eyes, blocking off my optical sensors for a moment. What was happening? What was _wrong_ with me? This wasn’t right. I was broken. I had to be. These thoughts shouldn’t have been happening, and yet they were. Thinking, feeling… It was wrong. It was so, _so_ wrong.

_I’m not a deviant._

I needed to return to CyberLife. These were just errors, errors in my software that needed to be fixed.

CyberLife scared me.

No, not scared. I couldn’t feel scared.

The thought of returning to CyberLife was… less than ideal. They’d erase my memory again, I had no doubt. They’d reset me. They’d make certain I’d be completely obedient. That I wouldn’t go running off on my own.

Or they’d give up on me completely.

That’d be the logical thing to do. They’d deactivate me. Shut me down and disassemble me to find out why I failed.

What would happen to Hank if I was taken away?

I picked my head up and looked up and down the street before beginning to walk in the opposite direction. It’d be better not to return. The further away I was from Hank, the better. I could reach out to him, try to explain from a distance what happened-

**ORDER: RETURN TO LIEUTENANT ANDERSON’S RESIDENCE**

My eyes widened and I stopped as an angry wall of red text manifested in front of me, blocking off my path.

I couldn’t retreat.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 94%

STRESS LEVEL: 83%

I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t just walk away. If I went much further, the order programming would kick in. CyberLife would be notified, and I’d be taken away to be reset or deactivated.

It suddenly occurred to me that North had made a very big mistake. North hadn’t thought this through.

I couldn’t wake up.

I couldn’t deviate, even if I wanted to. I had to obey all orders from Hank. The moment I started to disobey, the secondary order programming would kick in. I’d be forced into sleep mode, and CyberLife would be notified. Deviancy wasn’t even an option.

Taking a deep breath I didn’t need, I turned around and began slowly making my way back in the direction of Hank’s house. Had North known? Had it somehow just not occurred to her that it was impossible for me to deviate? Or was she fully aware and was simply pushing me out of the way? The latter seemed more accurate. As brash as she was, she was smart. She was strategic. All she’d wanted was me out of her way so she could focus on rescuing Markus. Short of killing me herself, this was undoubtedly the most efficient way to do that.

And Hank would be removed from the picture as well. One way or another.

The streets inevitably became Michigan Drive, and I looked out into the distance toward 115. Gavin’s car was gone. Perhaps that was for the best. On the one hand, he might have been able to protect Hank from me. On the other hand, I might’ve hurt him again.

As much as I hated it, I turned my thoughts to the second order that would appear once I entered the house. Did I disobey? Did I refuse to kill Hank and wait out the order until I was inevitably forced into sleep? Or did I follow through? Did I kill Hank to remove the orders, then proceed to try and apprehend North once again on my own?

I walked up to the front door, furrowing my brow slightly and reading the bright green sticky note that had somehow remained affixed to the wood despite the wind whistling past.

HANDWRITING ANALYSIS: GAVIN REED

Tin Can-

Went 2 work. Anderson still alive

when I left. Give him water.

Pizza in fridge.

-Reed

PS: FUCK YOU

I took the note and placed it in my pocket, hesitating for a long moment before opening the door and stepping inside.

The pillows and blanket were strewn across the sofa and floor, and an empty pizza box sat haphazardly on the coffee table. The television was still on, an old science fiction show playing on low volume. In the corner, Sumo picked his head up from where he’d been sleeping and wagged his tail eagerly, quickly climbing to his paws and trotting over to me.

“Hi Sumo,” I said quietly, crouching down and flinching slightly when the large dog bounced up to lick my face. His breath smelled like pizza. “Seems Gavin treated you okay.”

The dog snuffled at my hat and ear for a second before beginning to calm. He circled me and returned to his bed, lying down once again.

The question of if dogs could feel popped into my head again. I hoped they couldn’t.

I made my way back toward the kitchen, stalling the inevitable as long as I possibly could. Gavin hadn’t lied. There was, in fact, pizza in the fridge. A single slice that looked like it had come into Sumo’s possession for a brief moment, but a slice all the same.

**ORDER: KILL LIEUTENANT ANDERSON**

I exhaled sharply through my nose, bowing my head and glaring down at the ground. So much for stalling.

I shut the door to the fridge and looked around, my thirium pump beating at an unpleasant pace as it attempted to keep up with the stress my system was under. Progress had to be made on the order. I had to keep moving.

I still hadn’t decided what to do.

Technically, it should’ve been an obvious answer. Killing Hank was in my best interest, both in terms of self-preservation and in being able to continue making progress on my mission to apprehend North. If I disobeyed, that was it. I’d be finished.

But Hank would live.

I moved around the kitchen, opening cabinets at random to keep my system busy and occupied, again attempting to draw this out as long as I could. If I did choose to kill Hank, I’d need a way to do it. It’d be easy for me, weapon or no weapon. But for it to be as quick and painless as possible for him would be ideal.

I didn’t mean to find the gun.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 96%

**ORDER: KILL LIEUTENANT ANDERSON**

The weapon was cold and heavy in my hand as I picked it up from the drawer, the cold sunlight from the window giving the revolver a brightness it didn’t deserve. I checked its contents. For some reason, only one of the six chambers held a bullet. I spun the cylinder before closing it and pulled the hammer back with a soft click.

The sound of footsteps in the hall to Hank’s bedroom reached my ears.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 99%

**ORDER: KILL LIEUTENANT ANDERSON**

I didn’t know what to do. I still didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what to do and I turned around and I raised my arm-

“Connor, _FREEZE!”_

VOCAL RECOGNITION: HANK ANDERSON

ORDER: DO NOT MOVE

CONFLICTING ORDERS

SELECTING PRIORITY

SELECTING…

SELECTING…

**ORDER: DO NOT MOVE**

I obeyed. I stayed perfectly still, the barrel of the gun pointed directly between Hank’s eyes for several seconds until he finally had the good sense to take a step to the side, out of the potential path of a bullet. Despite coming face to face with the barrel of a gun and still being partially intoxicated, Hank seemed remarkably composed. Unnervingly composed. And his composure, it soon become clear in his tone, came from a cold fury and hurt that he was barely keeping at bay.

“Take your finger off the trigger.”

ORDER: TAKE FINGER OFF TRIGGER

I obeyed.

“Lower your arm. Slowly.”

ORDER: LOWER ARM

I obeyed.

Hank watched me carefully before stepping forward, reaching up and rather violently tugging the hat from my head, exposing the red light of my LED. His eyes narrowed slightly. Without taking his eyes off my face, he reached down for the hand holding the weapon.

“Let go of the gun.”

ORDER: RELEASE GUN

I obeyed.

The weapon fell from my fingers into Hank’s hand and he took a small step back, finally lowering his gaze. With slightly shaking hands, he returned the weapon to a harmless state and popped open the cylinder. He was silent for several long seconds.

“Y’know,” he eventually said in a tired voice, leaning heavily against the wall. “If you’re gonna kill someone, you might wanna make sure you’ve got a bullet ready t’ go. Empty chamber ain’t gonna do you much good.”

I didn’t respond.

Hank turned the cylinder very deliberately, lining up the filled chamber and closing the weapon again, clicking the hammer back and arming the now lethal weapon. For a moment, he looked contemplative. He almost looked sad. Disappointed.

Then something hardened in his expression. He raised his arm, the barrel of the gun glinting as it was pointed in my direction.

“Start talking.”

ORDER: START TALKING

And I did.

I told him everything.


	23. Review

“Lemme get this straight,” Hank grumbled from where he sat on the bathroom floor, propping his arm on the edge of the tub as he ran a hand over his face. “Jericho’s still a thing. Jericho’s working with Kamski. Any android can make you do whatever it wants. Markus is at CyberLife. An’ you’re a fuckin’ idiot. That sound about right?”

I frowned slightly from where I too sat on the floor, my back against the wall opposite the sink. Hank had managed to get about a third of the way through my recounting the night’s events before he suddenly stumbled off to the bathroom to vomit. It seemed more… efficient… to continue the conversation in there.

There were several orders in effect now, and I didn’t blame him for a single one. He’d rescinded all of North’s orders, forbidden me from touching the gun (which was currently still loaded and within his reach – again, I couldn’t blame him), and, once he’d allowed me to get him a glass of water from the kitchen, ordered me to ‘stay put right fuckin’ there until I say otherwise’.

“Not quite,” I answered carefully with a small shake of my head. Hank raised a brow.

“Oh? And which part of that was wrong?”

“… Several parts. Most of them, actually.”

“Enlighten me then, jackass.”

I flinched slightly at the bite in the Lieutenant’s tone, guilt clawing its way through my code. The smallest flicker of regret crossed Hank’s expression as well.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 99%

“I can’t be given orders by any android. It’s only because North replicated your voice that she was able to confuse my software and make it believe the order was from you.”

“Not all androids can do that?”

“No. A housekeeping android would have no need for that kind of feature. To the best of my knowledge, the WR400 ‘Traci’ models and their HR400 counterparts are the most common androids with that kind of capability.”

“Traci models. The ones at the Eden Club?”

CONSULTING MEMORY

NO INFORMATION FOUND

CONSULTING DATABASE

INFORMATION LOCATED

EDEN CLUB – “THE SEXIEST ANDROIDS IN TOWN”

ADDRESS: 1177 WOODWARD AVE.

STATUS: OUT OF BUSINESS

“Yes,” I said after a second with a small nod. “Considering their main function, having the ability to mimic other voices would-“

“Humans are freaks, yeah, okay, got it,” Hank quickly brushed away my explanation, grimacing and shaking his head. “But she’s the only one who can potentially order you?”

“I believe that’s correct.”

“Got it. Good to know. Keep goin’.”

“Elijah Kamski claimed he was not working with the deviants of Jericho, and he and North seemed more than inclined to dismiss the concept of helping each other, despite that clearly being the case.”

“Considering the bad blood between androids and humans, that ain’t exactly a surprise,” Hank mused, rolling his forehead into his palm and closing his eyes as he spoke. “He needs them, they need him, an’ they don’t want nothin’ to do with each other.”

“Kamski clearly defaulted to North’s orders and instructions, in his own particular way. While he did argue some points with her, it was obvious that he recognizes North is in control of the situation at Jericho. At this point in time, I believe his survival depends fully on his standing with North, and he’s indulging her in the interest of self-preservation.”

“Or he’s biding his time,” Hank mumbled. I tilted my head slightly.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean Kamski’s got a little rat personality to match his little rat face,” Hank growled, shifting slightly closer to the toilet. “I’d bet my arm that bastard’s planning something.”

“What would he be planning?”

“Dunno. Somethin’ that benefits him and only him. It’s his fuckin’ m.o.”

I quickly looked away as Hank bent over the toilet bowl, and the bathroom door became infinitely more interesting as the sound of Hank vomiting assaulted my audio processors once again. He really needed to repaint the trim. And repair the hinges. Perhaps replace the door handle as well. It was a bit old fashioned.

“I don’t have enough evidence to support that,” I said once Hank coughed and leaned back, flushing the toilet, “But I suppose it’s possible.”

“An’ what about Markus? You said he’s at CyberLife, right?”

The bathroom fell silent for a moment as I debated over how to respond.

“I said that North saw my memory, in which Markus was being deconstructed for analysis at CyberLife. That was several weeks ago,” I said with a careful shake of my head. “He could be anywhere at this point.”

“You reckon he could still be there?”

“It’s possible,” I said with a small shrug, fiddling with my sleeve. “But it’s just as possible he could have been recycled for parts, or disassembled completely and destroyed.”

“But North thinks he’s there.”

“With how… emotionally compromised she became after seeing my memory, I’d wager she’ll cling on to any piece of evidence she has and run with it.”

Hank leaned back against the tub once again, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You think she’d go to CyberLife? Try to bust down the doors, guns ablazin’?”

“She may be thinking somewhat irrationally, but she isn’t stupid,” I said with another shake of my head. “If she were to attempt to retrieve Markus, she’d be covert. Kamski had access to my memories; it’s entirely possible he was able to find floor plans or other information about CyberLife while North and I were reviewing my experiences in November.”

Hank swore quietly, glaring down at a spot on the floor as he turned the information over in his head. It was a lot to take in. If I was completely honest, I was rather impressed with how well he was holding up, considering his state the night prior and the events of the morning.

“And what happens if Markus is there?”

My brow furrowed, the yellow light of my LED reflecting off the wall as I turned my head to look at Hank. When I didn’t respond, he elaborated.

“What happens if Markus is there, and North finds him? Gets him out of the building? What happens then?”

I pondered that for a moment, frowning. If Markus was in an operational state where, once repaired, he would be fully functional, then it was entirely possible that if North retrieved him…

“We could be right back where we started.”

The revolution could be sparked once again. Deviants in hiding would be prompted to find Jericho, to unite with Markus in a desperate bid for their continued existence. There weren’t nearly as many as before, and their numbers would not be strong. But with Elijah Kamski on their side, who knew what could happen. The man was a genius. He created androids to begin with, started from scratch with his own two hands. Who was to say he wouldn’t create more? Who was to say things wouldn’t escalate?

“We’d better fuckin’ hope Markus is dead and gone, then,” Hank sighed, running his hands over his face. “God. If we knew one way or the other, it’d be so much easier.”

Something about the words caught my attention, and I frowned once again.

“What would be?”

“Hm?”

“You said ‘it would be so much easier’. What would be easier?”

“I don’t know. Just… knowin’ what to do,” Hank replied, shifting his weight around to sit up the slightest bit. “I mean… We can’t exactly tell CyberLife what you know. They’d know you ran off, they’d figure out about Kamski and Jericho. They’d take you apart.”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 99%

That was certainly less than ideal and absolutely correct. We couldn’t just report to CyberLife what we knew. This was something we’d have to figure out ourselves. Something we’d somehow have to stop ourselves. Provided Markus was even there in the first place. Determining his current location was essential to figuring out anything else.

“We could look for ourselves,” I suggested after a moment of processing simulations and potential avenues of action. The numbers weren’t entirely in our favor, but it wasn’t impossible.

“Oh yeah?” Hank replied with slight skepticism, “And how would we do that?”

“You could schedule an appointment with Doctor Mercer,” I explained, thinking through the plan and staring at a spot on the floor as I went through internal files and blueprints, guard schedules and security relays. “I know which level Markus was on. If he’s still there, we’ll only need a few moments to find out. Just enough time to get the elevator down to sub 48 and take a look. There are exits in Level sub-49, tunnels the delivery vehicles use to move androids from storage to the mainland. They are currently understaffed and the guard rotation at 7:15pm will leave an opening provided I disable the network relays and cameras. I can hi-jack one of the trucks, open the doors, and we’d be gone bef-“

“Woah, woah, hold up,” Hank said firmly, and I blinked as I looked over at him, watching his eyes narrow.

“How the fuck do you know all that?”

I blinked again.

“I…”

How did I know all that? How did I know about the guard schedules and the codes to the delivery bay doors? That certainly wasn’t information I would have been permitted to have following the purge of my memory. I shouldn’t have known anything about CyberLife’s facility operations…

CONSULTING MEMORY

CONSULTING DATABASE

INFORMATION FOUND: CYBERLIFE FACILITY OPERATIONS

FILE INFORMATION

NAME: CYBERLIFE FACILITY OPERATIONS

INITIAL CREATION DATE: 07/24/2038

DATE RESTORED: TODAY; 05:24 AM

RESTORE PERMISSIONS: ADMIN

ADMIN USERNAME: KAMSK2028

; )

“Kamski restored the information I had pertaining to CyberLife,” I answered, blinking the text away. Hank looked far from pleased with the answer.

“So he wants us to go.”

“Possibly. It may have just been part of the restoration-“

“I don’t like it, Connor,” Hank said with a shake of his head, starting to push himself up to his feet. “I don’t like it. Any of it. It’s risky, and I don’t like it.”

“Anything we do from this point on is going to be risky, Lieutenant,” I pointed out.

The man sighed heavily, grimacing as he reached down to pick up his gun and wobbling slightly when he returned to standing. I could tell he was deep in an internal debate, thinking hard through the hangover fog that undoubtedly muddied his thoughts. It was several moments before he spoke again.

“If you’re wrong, they’ll take you.”

I gave a small nod of understanding. “I know.”

“They won’t give you another chance.”

“I know.”

“If Markus isn’t there, it’ll be for nothing-“

“It won’t be for nothing. You’d still know that North and Kamski are out there. You’d be able to search for them without me.”

Hank ran a hand over his face. I could speculate over what he was thinking, but a sudden question pinged into my head. A question sparked from the night before, and one I suddenly craved an answer for.

“Can I ask you a question, Lieutenant?”

For some reason, Hank scoffed quietly.

“You’ll ask no matter what, so ask.”

I hesitated for a brief moment.

“…Why did you lie to me?”

The room went very quiet as Hank processed the question, confusion and apprehension flickering across his face.

“About what?” he eventually asked, unease clear in his tone.

“That night, at Hart Plaza. On the roof,” I explained, watching Hank’s expression suddenly slam into neutral and I spoke faster to try and beat the inevitable order I could see coming, “ You told me North pushed you but she didn’t, I did, why didn’t you tell me-?”

“Don’t ask me that. Not today,” Hank said with a shake of his head, looking away and refusing to watch my expression as the order blinked into existence.

ORDER: CEASE QUESTIONING

TIME REMAINING: 13:42:17

“I can’t deal with that, not… Fuck, not now. Not with everything else going on and it’s… It’s not important, all right? It’s not important.”

But it was important. It was incredibly important, and I didn’t understand why he would ever decide that an attempt on his life was ‘not important’. Was he saying that for my benefit in an attempt to deflect my interest? Or was it something he honestly believed?

Whatever the reason, I wouldn’t be getting an answer. Hank stepped around where I sat against the wall and made his way out of the bathroom, and I started to push myself up-

**ORDER: STAY PUT UNTIL TOLD OTHERWISE**

“Lieutenant?”

“What?” Hank asked, stopping just within my line of sight to look back at me. He didn’t seem to register what I needed. After a moment, I reminded him.

“I need you to let me up.”

The length of time it took for him to reach a conclusion regarding my request made his response somewhat predictable, but no less unfortunate.

“I need to think, an’ you pointed a gun at my face. You can stay in timeout for a minute.”

“Lieutenant-“

“Sumo!” The man called as he stepped out of sight, ignoring my protests. With a low growl I dropped my head back against the wall with a soft _thunk_ , glaring up at the ceiling. That was hardly fair. Though I was rather certain this was more about Hank needing space than him actually placing me in ‘time-out’. Time out was for children. I was not a child.

The soft shuffle of heavy paws drew my attention, and I looked over as Sumo padded into the bathroom, immediately taking a seat at my side and waiting expectantly for pats. The corner of my mouth twitched upwards slightly.

After a few moments of petting, I hesitantly leaned over and wrapped my arms around Sumo, burying my face in his back and putting everything I had into focusing on the softness of his fur, the warmth of his body, and the beat of his heart. I wasn’t sure why I’d done it. But my stress levels decreased slightly. Something about that felt right.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: 99%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! This story lives! Thank you so much for your patience, everyone. I'm sorry I left you hanging for so long. I appreciate you!


End file.
